


Work Experience

by rosiexb



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Arguments, Biology, Blow Jobs, Coma, Crying, Cuddles, Cuddling, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Dates, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Hand Jobs, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Kissing, Knives, Lots of Crying, M/M, Nightmares, Overdose, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Paul Prenter Being an Asshole, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Stabbing, Stargazing, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 34,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosiexb/pseuds/rosiexb
Summary: Harold May is Roger’s therapist. Brian sits in on a couple of Roger’s appointments, for his work experience. Brian doesn’t intend to fall in love with Roger, but Roger doesn’t seem to be complaining.





	1. Chapter 1

Harold May was Roger’s therapist. If you asked Roger, he’d say he was fine and didn’t need a therapist, but here we are. Nevertheless, Harold May was a nice man. He was rather nice to talk to after a long day, he was easygoing and wasn’t surgically attached to a clipboard like Roger’s previous counsellor. 

“We’ve got about ten minutes left. Is there anything in particular you wish to talk about?” Dr May said professionally.

“Not really,” Roger replied, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s okay. I’ve actually got a little proposal for you. Well, not proposal... that would be weird,” May chuckled to himself, “My son Brian is starting his work experience next week, and he wants to get a taste of what therapy is really like.”

Roger wasn’t sure where this was going. Well, he knew he’d be asked if May’s son could sit in on his sessions, but he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea.

“Would you be okay if Brian could come in for your sessions next week?”

Called it.

“Yeah, I guess. What’s he like?” Roger pretended he was interested. In reality, he wanted to get out of that tiny office as soon as possible. 

“Oh, he’s a lovely young man; I’m almost certain you’ll get along,” May gushed, seemingly proud of his son. The doctor grabbed a photo off his desk and handed it to Roger. The boy in the photo had short-ish hair, which appeared to have been straightened. He was tall, compared to the woman in the photo who must be his mother.Roger was almost taken aback by this boy’s looks. He didn’t want to admit it, but this guy was attractive.

“I’m sure he’s lovely,” Roger smiled somewhat falsely, handing the photo frame back to his therapist. Dr May nodded, smiling politely.

“The photo’s a little old, but he looks vaguely the same,” Harold chuckled.

“How’s your dad?” the doctor asked, changing the subject, and the session carried on as normal.

 

Roger didn’t particularly like it at home. He didn’t really like it anywhere, but his house just had a pretty negative environment. His parents didn’t talk, unless it was something like “pass the salt,” or a short goodnight. His dad had recently been in a car accident, and his wheelchair was rather difficult to manoeuvre around the house. Roger did his best, but sometimes his mum lost her patience and shouted. Their arguments were petty, most of them. Roger tried to intervene, but most of the time was sent to his room. He felt helpless, really. He loved both his parents dearly and couldn’t bear to see them so angry at each other. He’d usually find his sister in her room, doing her homework or reading a book. During some of the worse arguments, they’d hold each other as they cried, hoping to God the fight didn’t get physical. 

 

That’s where Roger was then. He was in his sister’s room, trying to get his maths homework done while his mother shouted and screamed downstairs. Something about there being no jam left. Clare was younger than him, and often didn’t take arguments well. 

“R-roger...” she whispered, her voice cracking. He looked up at her, smiling sadly.

“I know. I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it, Clare, you know what happens when we try and stop them.”

“Can we try?” she mumbled, looking down,

“I guess...” he cleared his throat, putting his pen down and standing up. He held out his hand for her to take, and together, they walked downstairs. They stood on the other side of the kitchen door, pushing it open slightly when the argument ceased. Maybe it was seeing their children hand in hand, so terrified, that made them stop shouting.

“You’re meant to be in bed,” their dad said, patiently.

“Sleeping was rather difficult,” Roger mumbled, just clear enough for them to make out. 

“I apologise. To you two, and to you, Michael,” their mum spoke up, smiling sadly at her children, then at her husband.

“I’m sorry too. And I’ll buy you some more jam, Winifred,” their father smiled back.

“Thank you,” Clare said, hugging Roger’s arm to her chest, almost using him as a shield. Their parents nodded, and kissed them both goodnight. Roger led Clare back upstairs, and tucked her into bed. 

“Night, Clare.”

“Night, Rog.”

 

Roger took a deep breath, before exiting the room with his maths homework. He’d finish it in the morning. He yawned, stretching before pulling off his shirt and trousers, and getting into bed in just his boxers. He couldn’t remember being this tired in his whole life! Now, if you asked him if he dreamt about a tall boy with hazel eyes and badly straightened hair, he’d probably slap you. Only because you’d be right. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Brian May looked nothing like he did in that photo. Well, his face shape was the same, and maybe his eyes. But apart from that, he looked completely different. And if Roger found him attractive before, he sure found him attractive now. Brian’s lips were so full, and kissable. His hair was amazing; it was so messy yet so tidy; so unruly yet so perfect. 

“I’m Brian. I don’t know if Dad told you who I am or anything,” Brian said awkwardly, holding out his hand for Roger to shake. 

“I’m Roger, and yeah he did say,” Roger smirked, trying to be sexy. He so desperately tried. Maybe it did pay off, as when his skin made contact with Brian’s, Brian blushed. 

“Cool, cool.”

To Roger’s annoyance, Harold just had to go and be all professional and ruin the moment by saying,

“We do have some things to talk about, Roger.” Roger looked up, panicking. 

“What? What happened?” he said frantically, dropping Brian’s hand and sitting down in his chair nervously. 

“Nothing happened, don’t worry. I just have some new medication to prescribe you,” Dr May said in his relaxing voice (although Roger preferred Brian’s).

“Medication? I’m fine, I don’t need-“ Roger was cut off by Brian placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, turning his head to look at Brian. 

“Let him explain himself, Rog,” Brian said calmly, rubbing Roger’s shoulder gently. Roger noticed his therapist glaring at Brian, who shrugged in response. Roger shut up, looking back at Dr May. Brian kept his hand on Roger’s shoulder as his father spoke.

“I’ve noticed over the past couple of weeks that you’re incredibly jumpy, Roger. Has anything happened to make you feel paranoid, or anxious?” 

Roger bit his lip. He looked down nervously, fiddling with his hands.

“Not that I can think of,” he tried to keep his voice from shaking. Brian moved to sit on the arm of the chair Roger was sat in. Sadly that meant removing his arm from Roger’s shoulder, but Roger remained silent. He caught the wary look Dr May sent his son.

“If you tell us, we can help you. I’m sure you know how this works, right? I can step outside if you want me to,” Brian said softly. 

Why was he even here? Why couldn’t he go and do his work experience at McDonalds, or the local library? Roger shook his head in response, enjoying Brian’s presence next to him. Roger opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He could feel their eyes burning into him, and he looked up at Brian. 

“I don’t think it’s something I need medication for,” he sighed, looking down again.

“Who is it, Roger?” Brian said. 

“Are you even qualified for this? Oh yeah, work experience. Making assumptions like that will never get you into this business, you know. You’ll never be a doctor,” Roger spat defensively. Brian stood up.

“I’m sorry, Roger. It was nice meeting you,” he said, exiting the room. Harold sighed, trying to remain calm and professional.

“You’re right, he isn’t qualified, but he is trying to help you. As am I, if you’d tell me what’s going on,” he said softly. 

“My friend Paul,” Roger said quietly. 

“This is Paul Prenter, correct?” Dr May asked. They’d spoken about Paul briefly before.

“Yes,” Roger said, taking a deep breath, “May I apologise? To Brian?” his doctor smiled, nodding.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

 

Roger stepped outside, immediately spottingBrian in the waiting area. His head was in his hands, and he was bouncing his leg up and down on the floor.

“Brian?” Roger said, approaching him nervously. Brian looked up, his hair hiding his face. 

“Yeah?” Roger could tell he had been crying. He felt terrible.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sitting down next toBrian. 

“It’s fine. It’s true, you’re right,” Brian muttered. Roger opened his arms out for a hug, and Brian awkwardly accepted. The first thing Roger noticed was the way their bodies fit together almost perfectly. The second thing he realised was how soft Brian’s hair was, as he rested his face in the space where Brian’s neck met his shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry, Bri,” Roger said, his voice muffled.

“I forgive you,” Brian sniffled. Roger rubbed Brian’s back like Brian had done to him. Someone cleared their throat in front of them. 

“I’m sorry, boys but we do have an appointment to get back to,” Dr May said awkwardly. Roger pulled away reluctantly, blushing as Brian shot him a small smile. Roger brushed a tear off Brian’s chin before disappearing inside his therapist’s office. 

 

“Tell me more about Paul,” Harold May said when everyone was settled in his office. 

“He’ll call me on the family telephone, and tell me to, do stuff...” Roger trailed off, digging his nails into his palms.

“What kind of stuff,” the doctor asked worriedly.

“If I’ve eaten, he’ll usually tell me to... bring it back up again,” Roger mumbled, not making eye contact. He heard Brian’s sharp intake of breath next to him.

“Does he tell you to do anything else?” his doctor asked.

“Sometimes he tells me to... touch myself, you know, down there,” Roger whispered. 

“Do you?” Brian asked quietly, his voice cracking. Roger nodded, then laughed.

“I found that if you get a cucumber, and some lube, it sounds like you’re wanking,” he sniggered. Brian snorted, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Then if you make noises like,” he moaned obscenely, “he actually believes you.” Roger was cackling by now, completely in stitches in the armchair. Dr May isn’t laughing.

“Wh-“ Roger tried to speak but was cut off by more laughter. Brian chuckled quietly.

“Roger,” Dr May said seriously, “Why do you do what he says?” Roger froze, and immediately stopped laughing.

“He’ll come and find me. And he’ll kill my sister,” Roger said, expressionless, “He says he loves me. And he makes me say it back-“ he cut himself off, punching the arm of the chair hard. Brian yelped, jumping up.

“I’m sorry Brian,” Roger said, emotionless. 

“Roger. We’re going to tell the police about this, okay? We just need you to record a phone call, and that will be all we need for him to get put behind bars, okay?” Harold said, looking Roger in the eye. Roger nodded, letting his body fall into the chair. He rolled over, burying his face in the arm. Well, that’s what he thought. 

“Uh, Roger?” Brian coughed, awkwardly. Roger groaned, looking up at Brian. His eyes widened when he realised he’d just smushed his face into Brian’s crotch.

“Oops?” he offered, turning over, resting his head in Brian’s lap. He heard Dr May sigh from across the room. 

“Excuse me, boys,” the doctor said, standing up and exiting the room.

 

Brian smiled down at Roger as soon as his dad was out the room.

“Who even are you, Roger Taylor?” Brian wonders aloud, brushing Roger’s hair away from his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Roger wasn’t prescribed medication in the end. Harold handed him a strange black box with a cable, and told him to plug the cable into the box and hold it by the telephone. Roger was more than happy to do so, as it would hopefully put Paul in prison. 

 

He waited by the telephone that night, on edge, just waiting for it to ring. It was an agonising wait, but he tried to focus on his maths homework he forgot to complete from last night. His parents had gone out to try to “rekindle their relationship” and Clare was doing some after school club. Roger hated being home alone. You never know what could happen when no one’s around. Paul could—

 

The phone rang. It was a shrill, piercing noise that made Roger’s head ache. However, he waited about ten seconds, before picking it up, holding the cable up to the receiver. 

“Hey baby,” Roger could hear the smirk in Paul’s voice. He cringed at the nickname.

“Hello Paul.”

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner, this chick wouldn’t get out my bed,” Paul laughed, and Roger heard a female giggle on Paul’s end of the phone.

“Hate it when that happens,” Roger gritted his teeth, looking down.

“You’d never do that, would you sweetheart? You’d do just as I say, like you always do,” Paul threatened, making Roger flinch and stutter out a yes.

“Good boy. You’re my favourite, you know. My best boy,” he said, probably grinning evilly. 

“Thank you, Paul,” Roger said nervously.

 

Paul asked him a few tedious questions, like “how was therapy,” and “did you get all your homework done?” Roger answered politely, making sure his manners were perfect and Paul could understand every word. He was nervously anticipating Paul’s next move, trying not to make too many mouth noises into the little microphone he was holding up to the telephone. 

“Roger.”

“Yes, Paul?” Roger knew what was coming.

“Did you eat today?” Paul asked.

“Y-yes,” Roger stammered, knowing what Paul made him do when he ate.

“You don’t need any extra weight, you’re fat enough as it is, now go and get rid of it,” Paul ordered, firmly.

“What if I don’t want to?” Roger said defensively.

“Where’s Clare right now? Latin, after school? Nerd,” Paul laughed menacingly.

“She’s not a nerd, she just cares about her future, unlike some who will probably end up dealing drugs and sex slaves,” Roger raised his voice slightly. 

“Throw up. Or she dies,” Paul said.

“This is blackmail,” Roger spat, carrying the phone with him to the bathroom.

“Good boy,” Paul cooed, “Now stick those fingers down that pretty throat of yours.”

Roger did as he was asked. I won’t go into details. When he had finished, he stood up on shaky legs, and snarled bitterly down the phone,

“Happy now?”

“Very,” Paul replied, “Can’t have my favourite slut getting fat now, can we?” 

“Fuck you,” Roger sneered, coughing slightly. 

“No, I’ll be fucking  you,  Roger,” Paul countered, laughing. Roger didn’t find that particularly funny, for some strange reason.

“Go to your room, Roger,” Paul commanded.

Roger did so, not wanting to risk Clare’s life again.

“I’m here,” Roger muttered.

“Good boy. Take your clothes off,” Paul said, clearly not taking no for an answer. Roger did so, noticing his ribs sticking out unhealthily in the mirror.

“Are you naked for me, Roggie?” Paul said patronisingly.

“Yes,” Roger answered.

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, sir, ” Roger tried again, disgusted at his own words. It was when Paul told him to touch himself, that the first tears slipped out.

Roger wrapped his hand around his cock and started to cry. 

“Be brave for me Roger,” Paul’s voice softened slightly.

“I c-can’t do this,” Roger cried, making sure the microphone could pick everything up. 

“Stop whining, Roger,” Paul’s attitude came back, and he said, “Touch yourself, or she dies.” So Roger did so. He sobbed as he stroked himself, cursing himself for getting hard. However there was nothing he could do about it but cry, and get it over with. 

 

Roger hated himself for it so much, but he could feel himself getting close.

“Come for me, slut,” Paul said. Roger was a complete wreck by this point, but he came, just as he was told to. Probably babbling all kinds of rubbish.

“Roger,” Paul said, angrily.

“Y-yes?” Roger sniffled, trying to clean himself up.

“Who the fuck is Brian?!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one’s kinda short, the next chapter will hopefully be longer!
> 
> thank you for reading darlingssss x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is pretty boring but it’s quite important for the story!
> 
> Thank you for reading lovieeeees x

“Who the fuck is Brian?!” Paul shouted, making Roger flinch hard. 

“Wh-who?” Roger played innocent.

“You just moaned his name,” Paul said angrily.

“I did?” Roger was so glad Paul couldn’t see his face. Along with the tears, he was now blushing profusely. Why did he have to moan Brian’s name? Why him?

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Paul himself now seemed unsure.

“I don’t think I did, Paul,” Roger said, out of breath. 

“You’re not seeing someone, right?” Roger could hear the growl in Paul’s voice.

“Of course not!” Roger said defensively.

“You’d better not be. If you are, then you know what happens to Clare.” Paul hung up then, leaving Roger a sobbing mess on his bed.

 

Clare was used to finding her brother in his room crying with the telephone next to him, but she wasn’t used to finding him completely naked, with white sticky stuff covering his stomach. She walked over to him, and he looked up at her.

“Rog?” she said, confused. 

“C-clare-“ he jumped, looking down at the mess he’d made. She took a tissue out her pocket and started to clean the cum off his stomach. Tears continued to stream down Roger’s cheeks, as she threw the tissue in the bin. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see this,” he stuttered, as she handed him his pants. He pulled them on, and she hugged him tightly.

“It’s okay. What was the stuff on your stomach?” she asked innocently. Damn children. Don’t they learn this stuff at school? 

“C-can I tell you another time?” he wept, clinging onto her.

“Of course...” she mumbled into his shoulder. Roger was aware that Clare often found him like this, but he didn’t know the toll it took on her. He didn’t realise that when he was in her room comforting her, that most of the time the reason she was crying was because of him. She knew everything. Well, not everything, but she knew what Paul did to her brother. She’d often find him hunched over the toilet, screaming at someone down the phone to leave him be. 

“W-watch your back, Clare...” he whispered, before falling asleep. 

 

He woke up in an unfamiliar house. Fuck. Paul had got him. This was the end. He sat up, looking around frantically. It appeared he was in someone’s living room. 

“Paul?” he croaked.

“Roger?” he heard a warm, familiar voice in the doorway. He tilted his head up.

“B-brian?” he said weakly.

“Yeah, Rog. It’s me,” Brian said, walking over to Roger. Roger looked down at himself, and blushed when he saw he was wrapped up in a sheet.

“W-why am I here?” Roger coughed. Brian sat down next to him.

“Clare told your mum what happened. Well, she told her how she found you. Your mum rang my dad, and he said you could come round here as you know me,” Brian gave a small smile. Roger looked up in horror.

“D-do you know what happened?” 

“Not the full story, no,” Brian said, placing a hand on Roger’s knee.

“Do you want to..?” Roger mumbled.

“If you’re comfortable with telling me,” Brian smiled. Roger spotted the recording box thing on the arm of the sofa. He handed it to Brian. 

“Are you sure?” Brian asked. Roger nodded. Brian needed to hear. Brian plugged the box into a small stereo, and the recording of the phone call began to play.

“Hey baby,” Roger heard the recording of Paul’s voice and cringed. Brian wrapped an arm around him protectively. 

“Hello Paul,” he heard his own voice. Roger saw Brian grit his teeth, and clench his fists as Paul said,

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner, this chick wouldn’t get out my bed.” Roger leant into Brian, hoping it would calm him down. His attempt was successful, and Brian rested his head on top of Roger’s. Brian chuckled softly at Roger’s response,

“Hate it when that happens.”

“You’d never do that, would you sweetheart? You’d do just as I say, like you always do,” Paul’s voice came from the speaker. Roger shrank down into the sofa, embarrassed. Brian paused the recording.

“Rog?” Roger just nodded in response, and tried to relax against Brian. Paul wasn’t here. It was just him and Brian. Brian pressed play on the stereo, and it played Roger’s response, a startled yes.

“Good boy. You’re my favourite, you know. My best boy,” Paul replied to that. Brian’s grip around Roger tightened possessively.

“B-bri?” Roger stuttered.

“Hm?” Brian seemed lost in his own little world.

“You’re hurting me,” Roger whispered, scared. Brian loosened his grip immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking down. However, he didn’t remove his arm from around Roger, which Roger silently thanked him for.

“How was therapy?” came Paul’s voice from the stereo.

“Good... my therapist’s son was in there for his work experience. His name was Billy or something,” came Roger’s response. Brian chuckled slightly.

“Billy May,” he said under his breath.

“Did you get all your homework done?” Paul asked.

“Yes,” Roger replied.

“Good, good. We can’t have you in detention, can we?” Roger again could hear the smirk in Paul’s voice.

“Of course not,” Roger heard himself say shakily. 

“Roger,” Paul’s voice said almost urgently.

“Yes Paul?”

“Did you eat today?” Brian tensed beside him.

“Y-yes,” Roger had said. He closed his eyes, anticipating Brian’s reaction.

“You don’t need any extra weight, you’re fat enough as it is, now go and get rid of it,” Paul ordered, firmly. Brian gasped, pausing the tape.

“Fucking cunt,” Brian seethed, pulling the sheet off Roger’s top half. Roger gasped in shock, and Brian ran his hands over Roger’s chest and stomach. Roger bit back a moan.

“Who the fuck does he think he is? You’re not fat, Roger, you’re way too skinny-“ Brian cut himself off as he looked over some of the dried cum on Roger’s stomach. Roger tried so hard not to cry again. He was pretty sure his eyelids were already swollen, puffy and red, and he didn’t need to add to that.

“I’m sorry Bri,” Roger said, shuffling as far away from Brian as he could (which wasn’t very far at all).

“Don’t be,” Brian said, hugging Roger tightly to his chest. Roger decided he liked hugging Brian. Brian was warm, and as he realised before, their bodies fit together perfectly.

 

Brian pressed play on the stereo after a couple of minutes of hugging. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Roger heard his own words. He looked down as he remembered the consequences.

“Where’s Clare right now? Latin, after school? Nerd,” Paul laughed menacingly. Roger flinched, grabbing Brian’s hand.

“She’s not a nerd, she just cares about her future, unlike some who will probably end up dealing drugs and sex slaves,” Roger remembered saying. Brian exhaled sharply.

“Throw up. Or she dies,” Paul said.

“This is blackmail,” Roger spat, carrying the phone with him to the bathroom.

“Good boy,” Paul cooed, “Now stick those fingers down that pretty throat of yours.”

 

Roger flinched as he heard the sounds of him vomiting. He’d never liked sick, but here he was, forced to make himself throw up for the good of his sister’s life.

“It’s okay, Roger. We’ll get him behind bars, yeah?” Brian said soothingly, rubbing Roger’s back. 

“Okay... thank you Bri,” Roger smiled through his tears. Every time Paul called Roger fat, Brian would tense up, and squeeze Roger’s hand.

“You’re not fat,” he would whisper. And Roger would blush every single time and curse himself for it.

 

“Good boy. Take your clothes off,” Roger froze.

“Bri-“ he started, but Brian shushed him.

“Don’t worry, Rog. It’s not your fault.” Roger nodded as he heard himself start to cry and touch himself.

“Bri, please...” Roger felt himself tearing up.

Brian squeezed Roger’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be okay,” Brian said.

“Fuck! B-brian...” he heard himself moan brokenly on the recording. Roger looked down. Brian gasped.

“You just moaned my name.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ava this is for you as you keep pestering me about it :) x
> 
> but also for all of you my darlings, i love every single one of you and i can’t believe so many people have read this!
> 
> thank you loviesss x

Roger was completely and utterly fucked. There was nothing he could do. Brian knew, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You moaned my name,” Brian said again, bewildered.

“Yeah, I did,” Roger said helplessly.

“Wh-why?” Brian said, puzzled.

“I don’t know! I think it was more a “Brian help me” kind of moan, rather than a “Brian, fuck, let me cum” kind of moan,” Roger said desperately. Brian choked on his own saliva.

“Okay!” He yelped, his voice going up a few octaves. Roger shrugged. 

“Sorry,” he smiled cheekily, looking down. 

“Um- I’ll be right back... if there’s anything you need, Dad’s in his office,” Brian said quickly, running out of the room. Roger didn’t know where Harold’s office was, but he kept quiet and tried not to laugh. He’d already upset Brian. He’s such a creep. Who moans their therapist’s son’s name when non consensually wanking?

 

Brian’s been ages. Literally ages. Roger stood up, stretching. He immediately regretted doing so, as he felt a wave of dizziness pass over him, and he fell back onto the sofa. He stood up again, slower this time and went out through the same door Brian did. He saw a closed door at the end of a hallway, and heard sobbing coming from inside. Oh. He’d made Brian cry. Congratulations, Roger. Roger knocked on the door, and didn’t wait for a reply before opening the door.

 

Brian wasn’t crying. He was fucking moaning. Oops. Roger stood there in shock as he watched Brian. The older boy had his head tipped back, his eyes closed and his mouth open in a silent moan. He looked like an absolute angel, Roger thought. Roger’s eyes drifted down to where Brian’s hands were. Brian had one hand on his thigh, his nails digging into the skin there. The other hand, well, that was a different story. Roger’s mouth seemed to be watering as he looked at Brian’s long fingers wrapped around his cock. Brian was bigger than Roger thought he would be. And Roger was already expecting something big. Yes, he’d thought about it.

“M-mmh... f-fuck, Rog,” Brian moaned rather loudly. Roger gasped. Well, now they were even. Realising he just gasped audibly, he ran back to the living room as fast as he can. Shit, he left the door open. Roger curled up into the sheet he was originally wrapped up in and closed his eyes. God, Brian had no idea what he was doing to him.

 

Brian came back in a few minutes later, with the excuse that “a bird pooped on his window and he had to clean it or his dad would be angry,” which first of all: was the shittiest excuse anyone could ever come up with, and second: Roger knew exactly what had happened.

“Hate it when that happens,” he’d said in response, smirking at Brian, who blushed and sat down next to him.

“Yeah...” Brian said awkwardly, sighing.

“You alright?” Roger looked up at Brian.

“Yeah, I’m just thinking. About, yknow, Paul,” he replied bitterly, grasping Roger’s hand (with that hand, Roger’s mind gladly reminded him).

“Oh,” Roger muttered, looking down guiltily.

“What?” Brian asked him, worried.

“Nothing, I just... I’m sorry you had to hear all that, especially with the ending, you probably think I’m disgusting-“ Brian cut Roger off with a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Never,” he said firmly, “I could never see you that way.” Roger blushed, snuggling into Brian slightly.

“O-oh, well that’s nice to know,” he stuttered, smiling. 

 

Brian’s dad appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. 

“Roger, there’s news about Paul,” he said gravely. Roger sat up immediately, almost knocking Brian out with his head. 

“Yes?” Roger noticed the black box was gone. When did that happen? Roger can’t have been watching Brian for that long..?

“I sent the recording to the police. They tried to locate Paul, but he’s disappeared off the grid completely,” Harold explained.

“Oh... do they have any idea where they might be?” Roger asked, worried.

“They’re checking all his family members’ houses, but right now, no,” Harold tried to smile reassuringly, but it came off slightly helpless. Roger’s throat went dry.

“So he’s just... loose?” Roger tried to clear the lump in his throat, but it wasn’t going away. Soon, he felt his entire throat and chest closing up, and he struggled to breathe, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He heard a faint voice calling out to him, but he couldn’t place it.

“Roger?” he heard again. His hands flew up to his head, and he began tugging at his hair, thrashing about. Suddenly he felt strong arms around his waist, and he relaxed into the familiar touch. He made a mental note about how their bodies fitted together perfectly, and the familiar curly hair tickling his nose. Roger knew he hit Brian, and he was so sorry, but he couldn’t really control anything in his current state. 

 

His breathing slowly returned back to normal as he clung onto Brian, sobbing into his arms.

“I advise you don’t go anywhere alone, Roger. Make sure Clare is never by herself, as well,” Harold said, “there are ways we can keep you and your sister safe, okay? Try your best to breathe slowly, and keep calm.” Harold was now sat in an armchair opposite them, and Brian had his arms wrapped tightly around Roger’s waist, while Roger cuddled into Brian. Roger nodded at Harold’s words, and Brian dried his tears.

“I promised you, remember? I don’t break promises, and we  will catch this fucker,” Brian smiled reassuringly.

“Language,” Harold scolded, smiling warmly at the two boys. Roger truly felt safe in Brian’s arms, with his therapist which might be a bit weird, but he felt safe nevertheless. And just like that, he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep in the arms of the boy he loved—

 

wait... loved? Shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry

Brian walked Roger home that day. He was taking Harold’s advice not to walk anywhere alone, and Brian was more than happy to walk with him. Brian kept the conversation going the whole way to Roger’s house, trying to make Roger feel more comfortable walking around.

“Who’s this then, Roger?” came a voice from behind them. Brian’s little speech about space ended abruptly, and he spun round, a death glare fixed upon his face.

“Paul,” Roger gasped.

“Hey, I’m Brian,” Brian smiled, holding out his left hand for Paul to shake. Paul looked at him in disgust, but Brian only grinned wider as he socked Paul right across the face with his right hand. He threw himself at Paul, pinning him to the ground, punching him repeatedly. Brian kneed him in the balls, a darkness in his eyes that Roger had never seen before.

“BRIAN!” Roger screamed at him, but Brian didn’t seem to recognise his words as he shoved Paul into he ground, spitting on his face.

“I do love the violent ones,” Paul grinned, his teeth stained with blood. 

“Fuck you,” Brian spat, hitting him again.

“I wouldn’t really complain,” Paul winked. Brian punched him in the face once more, and heard a satisfying crunch as Paul’s nose broke again. Brian stood up, and put his left arm around Roger.

“Brian...” Roger said helplessly, looking over at Paul who was laying on the ground, glaring at the two of them. Probably jealous. Well, he was definitely jealous.

“Have him,” Paul said to Brian, “But don’t expect too much. I doubt he’ll ever be able to have sex with you after me. I broke him for you.”

“Relationships don’t revolve around sex, Paul. I understand that, but I don’t think you do,” Brian hissed. Roger tugged on Brian’s hand, but Brian didn’t budge. 

“Disgusting piece of shit,” Brian growled at Paul, whose smile had long gone.

“Brian,” Roger pulled harder.

“Fucking wanker,” Brian snarled, clenching his fists.

“Brian, please!” Roger begged, pulling hard on Brian’s hand. Brian turned round to look at him, eyes not really focussing.

“Bri...” Roger whispered, looking at Paul.

“He deserves worse than what I gave him, Roger,” Brian sneered at Paul.

“I’m sorry?” Paul offered.

“Oh, shut it, you cunt,” Brian glared. Roger couldn’t stop the tears. He remembered when Paul used to be so nice to him, helping him with homework and how to deal with the stress of his parents fighting. Paul used to comfort him when no one else would, when he was too scared to tell anyone his problems. But... Paul wasn’t that boy anymore. Brian was right, Paul was disgusting. He was a blackmailing, perverted, lying rapist and he needed to be put in prison. Roger felt Brian squeeze his hand, bringing him back to reality.

“Roger, would you knock on that house and ask if you could phone the police?” Brian asked him, stroking the back of his hand. Roger nodded, used to following orders. It was sad, really, how he was just so obedient. Maybe he should work on that. 

“Yes, Bri,” he said, walking up to the front door. He knocked, waiting there anxiously. A tall, balding man answered the door. 

“I’m not interested,” he said, about to close the door.

“Wait! I’m not trying to sell you anything!” Roger said quickly, shoving his foot in the door.

“Oh, sorry,” the man said. Roger finally got a good look at him. He was tall, skinny and didn’t look too intimidating. He was dressed in a suit and was wearing a tie with flamingoes on it.

“It’s fine. I just... may I use your telephone to phone the police?” Roger said awkwardly.

“Yes, yes of course!” the man said, holding the door open and showing Roger to the telephone. Roger quickly dialed 999.

“Hello?” he stuttered awkwardly, “Is this the 999?” He mentally kicked himself. What an idiot.

“Yes,” the person on the end said as if trying not to laugh, “What is your emergency?” 

“Well, the police have been looking for a man named Paul Prenter, and we’ve found him,” Roger explained.

“Okay, and where are you?” the lady asked.

“We’re-“ Roger froze as he looked out the window. He felt sick at the sight before him.

“Oh god,” he choked. Paul was holding a knife to Brian’s throat, as Brian struggled to get him off. Brian kicked and screamed, but Paul held him tight. Where were the fucking neighbours? Were they just sitting back, watching it happen with their tea and crumpets!

“He’s trying to kill my friend! Please help, you must-“ she cut him off.

“Just tell us where you are. We’ll get you both out of there safely,” the operator said calmly. Roger told her their location, the street and the number of the house he was in.

“Police and an ambulance are on the way, okay? What’s your name, sir?” she asked.

“R-Roger Taylor.”

“And how old are you, Roger?” 

“Fifteen,” he stuttered.

“How old is your friend?” 

“He’s fifteen too,” Roger guessed.

“What’s his name?”

“Brian May...” Roger screamed as Paul plunged the knife into Brian’s stomach. Roger felt nauseous as Paul pulled the knife out, stabbing Brian again.

“HE’S KILLING HIM, PLEASE! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, DON’T TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME!” Roger screamed hysterically. His other hand flew up to his hair, and he tugged at it hard.

“Roger,” the lady said, “I want you to breathe deeply. Can you hear sirens yet?” He listened out as she was quiet.

“Y-yes, they’re loud... I c-can’t think straight,” he mumbled. The man who let him in was watching the scene outside with horror. Three police cars pull up outside the house. He felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I can hear them too. Are they here?”

“Y-yes,” Roger said.

“I’m going to hang up. You need to tell the police who you are, okay Roger?” she said. Roger took a deep breath and nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Okay... th-thank you so much,” he stammered, as she hung up. He ran outside, screaming Brian’s name as he ran over to his friend. Paul was being manhandled into a car. Good riddance.

 

When Roger reached Brian, Brian sweating, incredibly pale and his curly hair that Roger loved so much was sticking to his forehead. He sat down next to Brian, pulling Brian into him and resting Brian’s head in his lap. Brian smiled up at him.

”Roger,” he said wistfully.

“Bri, please,” he cried, as Brian’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Stay with me,” Roger wailed. The ambulance pulled up.

“BRIAN!” Roger yelled, shaking his friend. Roger sobbed as there was no response. He bent down, kissing Brian’s forehead. The paramedics took hold of Brian, lifting him into a stretcher. 

“BRIAN!!” Roger screamed his name again. 

“Please, I need to be with him,” he begged the paramedics, but they refused to let him in. He collapsed onto the pavement as the ambulance sped off, taking Brian with it. He was dead. Brian was dead. It was all his fault. He got up almost as soon as he fell down, and just started running. 

 

He ran until his legs could carry him no further, and he was coughing up his own lungs. He was running past a row of houses.  He’d never been to this part of town before. It was quite nice, actually.  He suddenly felt very ill and dizzy, like the reality of his situation just hit him. He forgot he hadn’t eaten anything in about 48 hours. Paul would pay for what he’s done. Roger would kill him himself, if it came to that. He collapsed. 

“Brian...” he whispered, before passing out at the side of the road.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HUGE TRIGGER WARNING  
> *self harm and suicide mentions*  
> this chapter is pretty necessary but if you don’t feel like reading it i will summarise it at the end.

Roger woke up in a rather fancy house. The last time he woke up in an unfamiliar environment, Brian was there. He called Brian’s name, even though he knew there was no chance he could be there.

“Darling?” a man’s voice, “Are you quite alright?” 

“B-Brian...” Roger said again. Here comes the waterworks, he braced himself for the wave of tears.

“Is that your name?” the man asked, sitting down on a stool in front of Roger. Roger shook his head.

“What’s your name, dear?” the man said patiently.

“R-Roger,” he stammered.

“Nice to meet you, Roger. My name’s Freddie,” Freddie smiled. Roger nodded at him, then broke into a coughing fit.

“Would you like some water, darling?” Freddie said, standing up quickly, heading to where Roger assumed was the kitchen. Roger nodded. 

“JOHN? Darling, would you keep our friend company?” Freddie shouted up the stairs. A muffled “mkay,” came as a response. A bedraggled looking man came stumbling down the stairs. His eyes lit up and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Roger awake.

“Hello,” he smiled, “My name is John Deacon.”

“H-hi, I’m Roger,” Roger said, his voice cracking. His voice was so rough from screaming, even whispering hurt.

“Do you want anything? Food, throat sweets?” John smiled. Roger realised he liked Freddie and John. They were friendly, and reminded him of Brian—

“Roger? What’s wrong?” John said, placing a hand on Roger’s knee. Roger was still wearing Brian’s shirt that Brian lent him. 

“Brian,” he whispered, cuddling into himself. John frowned, getting up to go and find Freddie. 

“Who’s Brian?” he whispered. Roger still heard.

“Don’t know. He’s being saying his name ever since he got here,” Freddie replied, walking over to Roger with a glass of water in his hand. Roger gave a small smile at the little paper umbrella.

“Roger, darling. Who is Brian?” Freddie asked as Roger sipped his water through the metal straw.

“My friend...” Roger trailer off, wiping his eyes with Brian’s sleeve.

“Boyfriend?” Freddie pressed.

“No,” Roger looked down.

“You liked him, didn’t you?” Freddie said, putting a hand on Roger’s back. Roger nodded, continually wiping his eyes.

“Oh, darling come here,” Freddie said, embracing Roger.

“Now stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles,” Freddie said, wiping Roger’s tears away. Roger attempted a giggle, but broke into a coughing fit.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Brian?” Freddie said slowly. Roger’s face went blank.

“Paul stabbed him,” Roger said simply.

“Who’s Paul?” Freddie asked.

“Paul Prenter. He told me if I didn’t do everything he said, he’d kill my little sister,” Roger explained.

“Oh, lord,” John whispered.

“Do you know if Brian is still alive?” Freddie asked. Roger shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure he died in my arms,” he said bitterly.

“Oh, Roger darling...” Freddie whispered. Roger shook his head.

“Why are you helping me?” he said sadly, looking up at Freddie.

“Well, I wasn’t going to sit there watching you all passed out on the pavement, was I?” Freddie said. Roger shrugged.

 

A few days went by. Roger missed school, staying with Freddie and John instead. He mostly just sat on the sofa. Watching the news for any updates about Paul’s case. He was flicking through the channels, when he came across footage of the attack itself. He screamed as he watched the knife disappear into Brian, Paul’s evil grin. He sobbed as he watching Brian gaze up at him, before closing his eyes as his heart stopped.

“Roger? Roger!” John pulled him out of his state. Roger sniffled as he watched himself kiss Brian’s forehead, before Brian was taken away from him forever. 

 

John pulled Roger into his arms, as Roger cried. Freddie soon joined them, and they ended up with Freddie and John sat on the sofa with Roger laying across both of them.

“He’s cute,” Freddie said, breaking the silence they’d fallen into.

“He was, wasn’t he?” Roger gave a small smile. John nodded.

“I only knew him for a day. But when you meet that one person that connects you to the world, you become someone different. Someone better. When that person is taken from you... what do you become then?” Roger sniffed. John brushed some of Roger’s hair away from his face. 

“You thought you were soulmates,” John said, nodding.

“It sounds so- so stupid, that I only knew him for a day, but I fell in love the moment I saw him...” Roger started to cry again.

“Oh, Rog, don’t worry. It was the same with us. Love at first sight, wasn’t it, beautiful?” Freddie said, directing the last part at John. John blushed.

“How did you two meet?” Roger asked.

“John came to my stall down in Kensington market,” Freddie explained.

“He made me try on the most ridiculous jacket,” John said, smiling in mock annoyance.

“Oh, darling you looked wonderful. Still do,” Freddie shoved John lightly. Roger smiled at their relationship. One he’d never have with anyone, especially now Brian was gone. Fuck, he missed him.

 

“A fifteen year old boy by the name of Roger Taylor has gone missing, after who we assume was his boyfriend was stabbed three days ago. Here’s his mother, Winifred Taylor, to tell us more about this case,” the news reporter said. Roger’s mother said shakily,

“Roger is a lovely boy, I have a photo of him here.” Roger’s embarrassing school photo was shown, full screen on the telly.

“I miss him so much... I’m so worried. He’s not particularly stable, we’re all terrified he may have ended his own life,” she tried not to stumble over her words. Suicide. Good idea.

‘I’m here!’ Roger screamed inside his head. 

“If you see Roger anywhere,” the reporter said, “Please call this number.” She read aloud a number that Roger immediately forgot.

“Roger?” Freddie said. Roger shook his head.

“I can’t go back. It’s just going to remind me of him,” Roger said sadly. 

“As lovely as it is having you around, you can’t sleep on the sofa forever, Rog,” John said, squeezing Freddie’s hand. Roger stood up, his eyes clouding over in deep thought.

“Roger?” Freddie asked, looking up at him. Roger nodded, walking to the bathroom.

 

Good, they kept the paracetamol here. What was the point in even staying alive if the love of his life is dead? He might as well throw in some sleeping pills, too. Take the pain away. Roger had heard that if you overdose on paracetamol, it slowly eats away at your liver, which can be excruciatingly painful. He decided on taking the sleeping pills too, to speed it up a bit. He knew he deserved the pain, but he was a selfish little shit and quite frankly didn’t want to. He poured about ten paracetamols into one hand and gulped them down one by one, with the water from the bathroom tap. He then shook out some of John’s sleeping pills to speed up the process, taking those too. He sliced open his arm, wincing as blood poured out of the fresh cut. The pain didn’t stop him from dabbing his finger into the blood, and writingBrian’s name in capitals on the wall. He underlined it twice. 

 

He then froze. Shit, shit, shit what was he doing? He stumbled out of the bathroom.

“FREDDIE!” he yelled, collapsing at the top of the stairs. He heard Freddie running up the stairs, with John close behind him.

“I’m so sorry...” he whispered, before he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically john and freddie found roger outside their house - they took him in and about a week later they hear on the news that everyone’s looking for roger, and john says that they can’t keep roger in their home forever. roger takes it very personally and attempts suicide, writing brian’s name in his own blood on the wall 😬


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well ive been having a shit day 😂😂 enjoy this chapter my darlings xx

beep

beep

beep

beep

 

The steady beeping of the heart monitor made Roger want to rip out his own heart. How long had he been listening to that continuous beeping noise? Well, a while, let him tell you that. Why hadn’t his attempt succeeded? At least he’d be with Brian...

 

“Mr Taylor,” a woman walked over to him. He nodded at her, wincing when his head started throbbing.

“l’m detective Carter. I’m here to work out where you’ve been over these past few days. Now, are you going to make my job a lot easier by telling me, or do I have to work it out myself,” she gave a small, professional smile. Roger coughed.

“I collapsed on the pavement, then woke up in somebody’s house. A man - rather flamboyant - named Freddie, and his boyfriend John, took care of me,” Roger recounted. 

“That’s very sweet of them. Do you know either of their surnames?” the detective asked.

“John’s surname is Deacon, I think,” Roger said.

“Thank you so much, Roger,” she said, walking away from him. He attempted to snuggle down into the bed, but the texture of the mattress resembled cardboard, so he just slumped down in frustration. 

 

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he saw was Harold May frowning down at him.

“Roger! You’re awake,” he said, sighing in relief.

“Y-yeah,” Roger croaked, trying not to look at his therapist. Harold only reminded him of Brian, and—

Oh, fuck he was crying again. Harold patted him on the shoulder. Roger didn’t dare ask how Brian was. He didn’t want to hear that he had died. That made it official.

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he’s—“ Roger wailed, properly ugly crying now. Well, everything Roger did was ugly now.

“Roger. It’s not your fault,” Harold himself now seemed like he was trying not to cry.

“Roger,” a nurse said at the doorway.

“Dr Paul is ready to see you.” She left briskly after that. Roger’s throat felt like it was closing up. He shook his head violently. 

“No,” he repeated, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He started to claw at his scalp, tugging on his hair.

 

He was faintly aware of Harold saying his name, counting, and telling Roger to breathe deeply. Roger did as he was asked, and soon he calmed down from his panic attack. He shook his head, after he was calm.

“Not Paul,” he gasped.

“It’s not Paul Prenter, Roger. Some...” Harold looked at the clipboard that was next to Roger’s bed.

“Dr Paul McCartney,” he read aloud, smiling at Roger.

“Oh,” was all Roger said. He took a deep breath, and nodded. Harold left the room, but quickly returned with another man. 

“Hello, Roger,” the doctor said. He had an accent, Roger noticed. Liverpool, maybe. Dr McCartney took his temperature, and did other doctor-y things, then sat up straight, professionally.

“I just have a few questions,” the doctor said. Roger nodded.

“What was your relationship with Brian May?” McCartney asked.

“W-we were just friends,” Roger mumbled, looking down.

“Are you sure? Did you ever feel... attracted towards him, or did you ever think he might have liked you?”

“I- I liked him... a lot,” Roger said, wiping away the tears forming in his eyes quickly.

“I see,” Paul said, “Now don’t go dying of a broken heart, okay?” 

“Okay...” Roger attempted an awkward smile, not really understanding the doctor’s words.

“Thank you, Mr Taylor, you’ve been excellent.”

“Thank you, doc,” Roger mumbled, nodding. He looked out the door, as a bed was being wheeled past. The patient had an oxygen mask on, and had dark curly hair - exactly like Brian’s, actually. Roger sat up, trying to peer further out the door. But the patient had gone. Of course it wasn’t Brian, Brian was dead. Roger slumped back down in his bed.

 

Paul McCartney left, walking into the door on his way out. Roger smiled, and Harold chuckled at his clumsiness. 

“As Dr McCartney said, you’re free to go and get food from the canteen. You hungry at all?” Harold said, fiddling with his hands. Roger felt bad. This man’s son had just died, and he had to babysit Roger as if he was a three-year-old.

“I’ll, uh- get something, yeah,” Roger said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stumbled slightly as he stood up, but he was soon enough walking to the canteen. He took a little detour, to stretch his legs (and totally not to be nosey in the other patients’ rooms).

 

He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked into one of the rooms, watching some doctors perform CPR on the patient he saw earlier. He saw them clap each other on the back a few minutes later. The boy had survived. Roger let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, as he tiptoed silently into the room. 

“Sir, you can’t be in here,” one of the doctors said as he turned around. 

“I’m sorry... I just thought he might be my friend,” Roger mumbled guiltily.

“What’s your friend’s name?” the doctor’s expression softened.

“Brian May,” Roger said, looking up at him hopefully.

“Uh, yeah, this is him,” the doctor said, puzzled. Roger gasped, rushing over to the side of Brian’s bed. He clasped Brian’s hand in his.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered to Brian’s sleeping form.

“Sir? You do understand that there’s a high possibility he won’t wake up, right?” the doctor sadly broke the news to him.

“W-what?” Roger stammered, “Are you saying... I-I’ll never see him again?” 

“I’m sorry, sir...” Roger shook his head violently. He squeezed Brian’s hand.

“Could you leave us?” Roger said politely, yet coldly. The doctor scurried away, making Roger almost feel bad. 

“Press this button if you need assistance,” another doctor said, before the rest of the medical staff left the room.

 

“Oh, Bri...” Roger said, pulling a chair up next to Brian.

“I did a stupid thing, my dear,” he said, taking Brian’s hand and rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb gently.

“I thought that if I died too, I’d see you again,” Roger confessed.

“I tried to kill myself. Ten paracetamols and five sleeping pills, I think it was. This bandage on my arm, fuck. I wrote your name on the wall in my own blood. How fucked up is that?” he said, resting his head on the edge of Brian’s bed, caressing his hand lovingly.

“It’s weird, I’d only known you for a day as well, but it seems like I’d known you for years. Maybe I shouldn’t get attached so easily, but what could I do, with you looking at me like that. Beautiful, beautiful eyes. Your wonderful hair, and your just... your entire self...” Roger trailed off, looking at Brian as he rested. He had a faint smile on his face, and Roger placed a hand on Brian’s cheek.

“Two men found me, unconscious on the pavement outside their house. Freddie and John, their names. Freddie’s very... flamboyant. Camp, maybe. Tell you what, he’d love to braid your hair,” Roger giggled. Roger twirled a strand of Brian’s hair around his finger.

“I miss you so much, Bri.”

“I know.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Roger’s head shot up. He looked at Brian, who still appeared to be unconscious. He slumped back down in his chair. Maybe he imagined it. Maybe he wasn’t going to wake up. Was Roger going to be hearing things like this for the rest of his life? Why was he obsessing over some boy he’d known for about three hours? But he had some sort of connection with Brian, almost like they were soulmates. Roger didn’t believe in soulmates, but Brian was another story.

 

He didn’t want to admit he loved Brian. He didn’t want to get dragged into the whole “I love you,” thing, because he knew it would end in heartbreak. Relationships always do. They’re a bad idea, and life would be better if humans just didn’t feel that emotion. In fact, life would be better if humans just didn’t evolve to be the disgusting, selfish creatures they are. Global warming, lovely things like that.

 

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, breaking out of his little train of thought, turning around. It was the doctor, Paul McCartney, from before.

“I lost my,” he coughed, “Friend, a couple of years ago.” Paul ran a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Roger asked, as Paul moved a chair next to Brian’s bed, and sat down.

“Shooting...” Paul looked down, fiddling with his hand. He ran his finger over a tattoo on his wrist, that read “John”.

“What was his name?” Roger said, feebly making conversation. He felt terrible. At least Brian was still breathing.

“John Lennon,” he replied shakily.

“You loved him, didn’t you?” Roger announced his suspicions. Paul nodded.

“He was the best friend-boyfriend I could ever ask for. And then he was ripped away from me, by some guy who just wanted to get on the fucking news,” Paul said sadly, yet angrily. Roger nodded, squeezing Brian’s hand protectively.

“After the incident, I went to med school. I decided I would specialise in people who had gone into comas, as that’s where John died. I would be better than the doctors who lost him, and I told myself I’d never lose a patient. I still haven’t, to this day. I’ll make sure Brian pulls through, and if he doesn’t, I will take full responsibility,” Paul said.

“Thank you, so much... although it wouldn’t be your fault, it’s Paul Prenter’s,” Roger seethed, maybe squeezing Brian’s hand a bit too tightly. 

“Sorry, Bri,” he mumbled, kissing Brian’s knuckles. 

“I’ll do everything I can, okay Roger?” Paul looked Roger in the eye. 

“Thank you so much,” Roger said, as Paul nodded at him and left. 

“Oh, Bri. What will I do without you?” Roger said, squeezing Brian’s hand gently.

 

“Roger, it’s been three months...” Freddie said, frowning slightly.

“I DON’T CARE! I NEED HIM!” Roger yelled, angrily.

“Roger...” John tried to calm him down.

“Oh shut up Deaky. You have no idea what he means to me,” Roger hissed. John flinched, and stumbled backwards into Freddie’s arms.

“I do find that rather offensive, Rog,” Freddie glared.

“Oh look at you, with your perfect fucking relationship. One I’ll probably never have, because Brian might not pull through,” Roger hissed, shuffling closer to Brian’s bed.

“Fuck you, Roger,” Freddie spat at him, as he guided his boyfriend out the room. Roger sighed, trying to keep the tears from escaping his eyes. He failed, hot tears cascading down his cheeks.

“What have I done..? I’m just pushing everyone away, and they go further and further until I have no one,” Roger cried.

“Please, Brian. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this...” he wailed, clinging on to Brian’s hand.

“Please wake up, I need you so much,” he sobbed. Roger heard the beeping of the heart monitor speed up, and he looked up hopefully. He saw Brian’s hazel eyes flicker up at him, and he smiled. Roger immediately pressed the button to call the doctor, as he squeezed Brian’s hand excitedly. Roger pushed some of Brian’s curly hair away from his face.

“Bri!” Roger wiped some tears away, smiling.

“I need you too,” Brian smiled softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the length of the last chapter, darlings! It was an important chapter and I couldn’t really be bothered to put in any description or whatever.
> 
> thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter, lovies xx

Doctors were everywhere. Roger was hustled out the room, and he was currently sat on a not very comfy chair outside, bouncing his leg up and down on the floor. He then remembered Harold was probably still waiting for him in his little room thing, so he went back to tell Harold the good news. It was quite a walk back to where Roger was meant to be. He must have been walking for longer than he’d realised.

Harold frowned when he saw Roger was empty handed.

“You didn’t get anything?” he questioned.

“No, but there’s some news about Brian,” Roger smiled.

“He woke up?” Harold grinned, at which Roger nodded.

“He’s this way,” Roger said, briskly walking towards Brian’s room. He could barely keep himself away from the other boy. Brian was like that. A magnet, maybe. Roger wasn’t sure what it was that made him so drawn to the other boy. Maybe it was his looks; he was  incredibly attractive. Or maybe it was his charming personality, the way he wasn’t scared to say anything or do anything if he knew it was for the best. That was most probably why Roger fell for him in the first place, the moment Brian put his hand on Roger’s shoulder and told him to relax, and let him trust his dad. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

 

When Roger and Harold walked into Brian’s room, there was a young girl smiling lovingly down at Brian.

“Bri... do you really not remember me?” she appeared to be crying.

“No, I- I’ve never seen you before in my life!” Brian seemed to be shuffling further away from the girl. She seemed to be pulling him towards her.

“Memory loss can be an after-effect of a coma,” a doctor said in the corner.

“I haven’t lost my memory! I’ve never met this girl!” he looked at Roger for help.

“Brian, it’s me, Chrissie! I love you!” she sobbed. Roger’s expression became almost murderous. Only he was allowed to say those three words to Brian.

“R-Rog?” Brian said nervously.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” Roger said, stiffening.

“I don’t!” Brian exclaimed, “ask my father!” 

Roger looked at Harold.

“I never had any knowledge of a current girlfriend, I must admit,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the girl.

“We were keeping it a secret, remember?” Chrissie wept, clinging onto Brian’s hand. Roger gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

“No! I don’t remember!” Brian said, trying to detach his hand from her vice-like grip.

“Maybe we should do a few memory tests,” Harold suggested. Roger nodded.

“I want to believe Brian,” Roger mumbled.

“Rog...” Brian’s voice cracked.

“Brian. Don’t,” Roger said, looking down.

“Please, Rog... just, come here,” Brian said. Roger complied, walking forward. Chrissie let go of Brian’s hand, and took a step back.

Brian sat up, and took Roger’s face in his hands.

“If I have a girlfriend, I will end it, because I don’t love her. Okay?” he looked into Roger’s eyes, making Roger blush. Roger nodded, wrapping his arms around Brian’s neck. 

 

They sat there for a while, just hugging. They didn’t really notice they were both crying. Chrissie had run out the door at some point. 

“Hey,” Brian shuffled further to one side of the bed, and patted the empty space next to him. Roger gladly got into bed with Brian, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t know her?” Roger said, uncertain.

“Yes. I’m quite lucky, I seem to have all my memories, and she definitely has not been part of my life,” Brian said, wrapping his arm around Roger’s waist.

“How’s your stomach?” Roger said, changing the subject.

“Hurts like hell,” Brian smiled, pulling Roger into him. Roger nuzzled his head into Brian’s neck, and was vaguely aware of Harold smiling at them across the room.

 

Just then, Dr McCartney came back in, smiling knowingly at Roger. 

“Hello, boys. I’m here to just go over a few things with you,” he said. They nodded, watching him as he set his clipboard down on the side of the bed.

“What was the last thing you remember before going unconscious?” he asked Brian.

“Uh, Roger kissing my forehead,” Brian answered.

“Roger?” Paul looked at him for conformation.

“Yes, yes I did that,” Roger said quickly, blushing.

“Good. I’m sure you’re aware of the trial that will be taking place in a couple of weeks, when you’re discharged, Brian,” Paul said, looking at the boys to see if they had any idea of this. They shook their heads.

“Trial? Why does there need to be one, I mean - it’s pretty obvious he stabbed Brian, and with the recording of the phone call...” Roger suddenly looked very worried.

“Hey. Remember, I promised we’d get him locked up, didn’t I?” Brian smiled at Roger, squeezing his hand. 

“Yeah,” Roger breathed, closing his eyes and resting his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“Brian, what kind of hobbies do you have?” the doctor asked.

“I play the guitar, I sing a little. I love space and badgers,” he said the last bit proudly, making Roger smile. 

“And where did you meet Roger?” Paul smiled professionally, yet warmly.

“I was doing my work experience at Dad’s work - he’s Roger’s counsellor - I sat in on one of his sessions,” Brian recounted.

“Well done...” Paul trailed off, “If you can remember all that, why can’t you remember Chrissie?” Brian shook his head.

“Oh no, I remember Chrissie, she was my girlfriend a couple of years ago. She... hanged herself in her bedroom on our anniversary. I found her dangling from the ceiling fan with a rose in her mouth. That girl outside - that is not Chrissie. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m really sorry for not posting for a couple of days, lovies. i’ve had a rough week, and the scene where roger punches the wall was taken from my own experiences yeet  
> (it’s okay i have a plaster)  
> i hope you enjoy this chapter! again, thank you for reading my darlings xx

“Then who the fuck is that?” Roger exclaimed.

“Probably a stalker of some kind. Sadly, we do get a lot of this type of thing with patients who have just come out of comas,” Paul suggested. Roger cracked his knuckles.

“It could be something to do with Paul,” Brian said, grimacing at Roger’s actions and taking hold of the younger boy’s hand.

“Who would want anything to do with me anyway?” Brian chuckled.

“I do,” Roger said quietly. 

“Oh come here,” Brian said, pulling Roger into a tight hug.

“I thought I lost you,” Roger wept, clinging onto Brian.

“Do you want me to give you two a minute?” McCartney asked, looking down at his clipboard.

“Yeah, please, thank you,” Brian nodded at him.

 

God, Roger felt like a wimp. He barely had any control over his emotions these days, and it usually ended up with him sobbing into Brian’s arms. Which was better than sobbing at Brian’s bedside with the fear that Brian might not wake up.

“I’m sorry,” Roger sniffed, attempting a smile.

“It’s okay, Rog. I’m here, and I’m staying. I need you to promise me the same,” Brian rubbed his back, kissing the top of Roger’s head.

“I promise. God, Bri, I promise,” he repeated.

“The... incident with the... pills, I-“ Brian stuttered, hugging Roger tighter, “What if I woke up and you were gone instead of me?” Brian shook his head, comforting the crying boy.

“It’s okay now, Rog. We’re both here, and we’re both alive. We’re going to be okay,” Brian said, loosening his grip slightly.

“Thank you so much, Bri,” Roger smiled into Brian’s chest.

“Anytime, Rog,” Brian smiled above him.

 

Dr McCartney came back in shortly after. 

“We contacted the police about whoever that girl was, and they came and escorted her down to the station for an interview or something,” he explained. 

“Good,” Roger smiled, resting his head on Brian’s shoulder. 

“Brian, you should be free to go tomorrow. Today’s just going to be us doing a few checks to make sure you’re fit to go home,” the doctor explained. 

“Roger, can I have a word?” Harold said from the doorway. Roger had half forgotten he was there.

“Yeah,” he shuffled out of bed and met his therapist outside the room.

“I’ve noticed that you genuinely make Brian happy. He does suffer from a bit of depression, and I can see you’ve really helped him with that,” Harold started. Roger smiled.

“I’m not a burden on him, then?” the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“Of course not! I can see that he really likes you,” Harold said, giving Roger a knowing look.

“Likes me?” Roger played dumb. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Brian was probably just being nice.

“Yes, likes you. I know you don’t really have much experience in the... friend department,” Harold tried to put it nicely, “but cuddling in bed together and holding hands isn’t really what friends do. Brian has never really been affectionate towards many people, not even me, really.”

“Oh,” Roger mused.

“I just want to thank you, for making Brian so happy. And that he makes you happy. I’m just happy for you two,” Harold tried to remain calm and professional, but his love for his son was getting the better of him.

“W-we’re not exactly going out, Doctor,” Roger chuckled slightly.

“I’m going to give it three weeks. At most,” Harold said cheekily. Roger shook his head, rolling his eyes.

 

The day was pretty boring; doctors occasionally coming in to check on Brian. Which often sadly meant Roger had to exit Brian’s bed, so the doctors could get to him. Roger was upset when he had to go home, but he would be there first thing in the morning to say hi to Brian before school. The ride home was awkward. What was more awkward, however, was being ushered into the dining room by his mother with his father and sister watching him like hawks.

“When were you going to tell me?” Clare asked him, looking him dead in the eye.

“Tell you what?” Roger said, confused. He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at his father and sister.

“That you’re... homosexual?” his father said, looking down.

“I- what?” Roger spluttered, looking at his parents, bewildered.

“We know about the thing with Paul, Roger. The entire country does,” Roger’s mum said, placing a hand on top of his. He wrenched it away.

“Fuck you,” he spat, standing up. His eyes filled with rage.

“I beg your pardon?” she challenged.

“You think I wanted that to happen? Just because I was raped and blackmailed by some lunatic...  male,  does not mean I’m gay!” he yelled, storming out the room and slamming every door on the way to his room. 

 

He rammed his fist into the wall repeatedly, only stopping when the pain became unbearable and blood was dripping down his hand. He sank to his knees.

“Oops,” he muttered, removing his shirt and trousers, getting into bed. There was a knock at his door. He ignored it, remaining completely silent in hope that they would just go away. They didn’t.

“Come in,” he grumbled. His mother smiled as she opened the door. She was carrying a tray, and on it there was a glass of milk, a cookie, some bandages and some antiseptic wipes. His face brightened a little as she set the tray down on his bedside table.

“Let me clean you up and you can have the cookie,” the smile didn’t leave her face as she wiped the blood away. He hissed as she cleaned the wound with the antiseptic wipes, but then relaxed as she put the bandages on.

“Here you are, my beautiful boy,” she stroked the top of his head, placing the tray on his lap.

“Thank you, mum,” he grinned, taking a bite of the cookie.

“Homemade, just as you like them,” she said proudly. God, the cookie was delicious. He drank half the milk, then put it on his bedside table.

“My point was, earlier, that we know how close you are with Brian. We were just wondering if you were just friends, or anything more,” she explained carefully. He nodded.

“I do really like him...” Roger mumbled, half to himself.

“But nothing’s been made official yet?” she questioned. He nodded.

“He’d probably never like me like that anyway,” Roger grumbled, sipping on the rest of his milk.

“Oh, sweetie. I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry i haven’t uploaded in a while, my darlings! i’ll hopefully have the next chapter up tomorrow, i just need to get back into the swing of things, you know? i hope you enjoy this chapter, lovies x

Roger was sure his mum knew something, but she wasn’t telling him, whatever it was.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she had said. What the hell did that mean?! She clearly knew something he didn’t, and giving him a cheeky look around the house was not helping anything. 

“I’m off to see Brian,” he said, having had enough.

“Have fun, love!” she called, grinning mischievously. He shook his head as he walked out the house, setting off to the hospital.

 

He met Brian in the waiting room of the hospital. He had crutches, but he seemed to be standing okay.

“Good to see you up and about, Bri,” Roger smiled, hugging the taller boy carefully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian chuckled.

“What?” Roger said, pulling away.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just still waiting for the painkillers to kick in,” he said, smiling.

“Oh, yeah- of course, sorry,” he apologised for hugging Brian so tightly. A nurse came over and made Brian’s dad sign a few things; they were now free to go. 

“Well, I’d better be getting to school,” Roger grimaced at the thought of education.

“You came all the way here just to see me?” Brian said, puzzled.

“Yeah?” Roger said. Was he being too clingy. Shit, he was being too clingy.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Brian smiled gently at him. 

“I know... I’m sorry, if you didn’t want to see me-“ Brian cut Roger off.

“Don’t be so ridiculous. Of course I want to see you,” he said, propping himself up on one of his crutches and putting a hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“O-okay,” Roger laughed nervously.

“But as we’re both probably going to be late, I suggest we get going,” he said reluctantly.

“Yeah, of course...” Roger said, disappointed. He knew he couldn’t spend too much time with Brian, but he felt school didn’t really matter after what they’d been through. He hadn’t been to school in a while, actually. His attendance was probably shit, after being off for three months.

“I’ll see you at therapy?” Brian grinned. Roger smiled back.

“Sure,” he said, going to walk away. Brian grabbed his arm. Roger flinched, turning around again.

“Rog,” Brian cleared his throat. 

“Yeah?” Roger bit his lip. Brian looked like he was about to cry, or maybe scream. Roger looked up at him, anxiously. Brian looked into Roger’s eyes, noticing his fear. He winced, and moved his hand to rest on Roger’s cheek. Roger flushed a deep red, and Brian smiled awkwardly.

“Have a good day,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to Roger’s cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl from  before. He turned his head head slightly, looking at her. She was scowling at him. And then Brian kissed him. His eyes snapped back to Brian’s, and they both looked at each other in shock.

“She’s here,” he whispered against Brian’s lips, both of them too shocked to pull away. Harold cleared his throat behind them. Brian moved his head away slightly, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m so glad she is,” he grinned. Roger caught on immediately. If she wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have turned his head and Brian wouldn’t have kissed his lips instead of his cheek.

“Me too,” Roger grinned back. 

 

School was as awkward as he’d thought it would be. As he walked into the building, everyone turned to stare at him, mouths wide open. He kept his head down, walking quickly to his first lesson. He felt their eyes burning into him, and he screwed his eyes shut. He stopped outside the classroom he was meant to be in, and slid down the wall. Fuck, this was worse than he had thought it would be. He pulled his knees to his chest, trying to regulate his breathing as he felt his throat beginning to close up. People were everywhere, gathering round him, getting closer and closer. He couldn’t breathe, he was trapped, as the walls were closing in on him. He screamed, raw and brokenly, grabbing at his own hair. 

 

Suddenly he felt arms wrap around him, and drag him to his feet. He kicked and screamed, as the person pulled him into the classroom. He looked up, sobbing as the person pulled out a chair for him. 

“I want you to breathe in and out, slowly for me, okay?” she said, taking his hand.

“That’s it, in for four, out for six.” Roger followed her instructions, very slowly but surely calming down.

“What’s your name, love?” she asked.

“R-Roger,” he stammered.

“Okay, Roger. I’m Anita,” she smiled. Anita seemed nice enough. She had dark brown hair and a kind smile.

“Do you want to go outside?” she asked, at which he nodded. Going outdoors always helped to clear his head. He went out on his balcony a lot after particularly scarring phone calls with Paul. She placed a hand on his back, and they walked out the door.

 

It didn’t take long to find an exit, and they both sat down on the nearest bench.

“My little sister has panic attacks. I used to calm her down from them a lot,” she explained as they sat down. Roger nodded, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the birds tweeting.

“Relaxing, isn’t it?” she looked over at him. He nodded again.

“I used to go outside when things got too much,” he said quietly, as if testing his voice.

“Reasonable,” she said softly, bringing the conversation to an end. She seemed to know that all he wanted to do was be silent and feel the wind on his face. She began to make a daisy chain, occasionally wandering off to find more flowers. She grinned as she put it on Roger’s head as a flower crown. He blushed, giggling.

“I feel beautiful,” he laughed.

“You are,” she chuckled, adjusting it and slightly.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you i would have another one up ;)   
> thank you as always for reading, loves x

School wasn’t actually as bad as Roger had expected. Anita stuck by him most of the day, and came to sit with him at lunch. He was incredibly thankful for her company, as he didn’t really have any friends himself. Obviously word had got round about Paul, and everyone had seen Roger on the news after he went “missing”. People did occasionally give him sympathetic looks, to which he just smiled back sadly. He even got a card! Someone in his history class handed him a small white envelope. He opened it, and smiled as he read it. 

 

To Roger

I’m sorry you had to go through that. I hope you get better soon.

-Reginald Dwight.

 

He nodded at the kid, smiling. 

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed. His teacher frowned in disapproval, but didn’t comment on the little exchange. 

 

Roger kept his flower crown on for the whole day. He smiled as he remembered its presence in period five, which was maths. He was also glad that no one had ripped it off his head, or just thrown it in the bin. He breathed a sigh of relief as he walked with Anita out of the school gates. She caught a bus, so he hugged her goodbye and he was on his way to therapy. He was looking forward to seeing Brian, but wasn’t terribly excited for what Harold had to say to him. He’d also have to tell his therapist about the panic attack he’d had today. 

 

He stood awkwardly outside Harold’s office as he always did on Mondays. Brian invited him in that time, hugging Roger as tightly as he could with his crutches, and smiled at his little accessory.

“God, I missed you so much and it had only been six hours,” Brian chuckled as he adjusted Roger’s flower crown.

“Oh, shush, you don’t mean that,” Roger mumbled, smiling.

“Oh, but I do,” Brian grinned flirtatiously. Roger glared at him, blushing. The two boys made their way into Harold’s office. Roger sat down in the familiar chair, and Brian sat on the arm. It was almost as if they were back where everything started, before it all got messy.

 

“So, Roger. How was your day?” Harold said. He usually started off the sessions with that question. It made Roger feel more comfortable, and made it easier to talk. Although, it was pretty unnecessary now, as Roger would probably trust Harold with his life.

“It was surprisingly okay,” he began, “I had an anxiety attack this morning, but my friend helped me through it.”

“Is this a new friend?” Harold asked.

“Yes, her name’s Anita. She made me this,” he said, pointing to the flower crown.

“It’s very pretty,” Brian said. 

“Thank you,” Roger blushed.

“My pleasure. It suits you,” Brian grinned at Roger’s reaction. Sometimes Roger questioned how the hell someone as perfect as Brian even existed. Harold cleared his throat. Roger looked at him, apologetic.

“Anything else... interesting that happened today? Events that don’t normally occur?” Harold questioned.

“I got a card?” he said, unsure.

“From whom?” Harold said patiently.

“Reginald Dwight?” he read out.

“Oh, Elton. Yeah, he’s great. A nice lad,” Brian chipped in. Roger raised a confused eyebrow. 

“I went to primary school with him,” Brian explained. Roger nodded, then turned to look at Harold.

“Why was that girl - the one pretending to be Chrissie - in the hospital? I thought she was arrested?” Roger said, remembering to ask.

“The police interviewed her, but found no reason for her to be suspicious. They thought she was just confused, or something,” Harold frowned.

“B-but... what if she’s working with Paul?” Roger panicked, eyes widening.

“Then we’ll do everything we can to protect you from her,” Harold said calmly.

“I-I don’t care if she gets to me! What if she g-gets to B-Brian?” he stuttered angrily. Roger could never normally form a sentence if he was angry or worried. Brian placed a hand on his back.

“I’m sure Dad will protect me as well,” Brian chuckled. “He did karate for ten years, you know!”

Harold went quite red.

“Brian!” he hissed, not looking at Roger.

“What? It’s a cool thing that you can defend yourself. And, well, attack people,” Brian tried to redeem himself.

“Would you attack me?” Roger said in a small voice. Harold sighed.

“Of course not, Roger. I was never very good anyway. I always found that my arms and legs were too long to make a decent hit,” he said, smiling. Roger nodded.

“Sorry,” he knew he was being too paranoid. But to be fair, Brian wasn’t helping much.

 

“So,” Harold cleared his throat, “Slightly more important topic. Paul’s trial is next week,” he said. Roger nodded, looking up at Brian.

“Will we need a lawyer or something?” Brian asked, motioning for Roger to move up on the seat. Roger did so, and Brian sat down next to him.

“Yes, you will. I would have organised something earlier, but... we weren’t sure if you were going to wake up... either of you,” Harold said grimly. Roger felt Brian’s arm snake around his waist, and familiar fingers stroked his side.

“Well, we’re here now,” Brian smiled, pulling Roger into him. Roger gladly rested his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can find...” Harold picked up the newspaper that was on his desk.

“I think Freddie’s dad is a lawyer,” Roger spoke up.

 

Harold ended up phoning Bomi Bulsara, and he was in fact a - quite good - lawyer. They arranged to meet at the weekend, giving them all time to prepare things to say, and bring along any evidence needed. Roger could quite understand why Bomi would want to go into this business, it was stressful enough sitting through one trial, let alone having it as your profession. The rest of the session went on as normal, and, for once - Roger didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Brian for as long as possible, forever, perhaps. Before he could stop himself, he said to Brian,

“D-do you want to meet up sometime?” he blushed immediately, and Brian replied,

“Of course. Are you free after school tomorrow?” 

“Y-yes, I’m always free. I never do anything,” he chuckled.

“I’ll see you outside your house at 4,” Brian said smoothly, smirking at Roger.

 

When Roger returned home, his mother was grinning at him.

“How was therapy?” she asked.

“Good,” he blushed.

“And how was Brian this morning?” she smirked.

“H-he kissed me,” Roger looked down, smiling. 

“HE DID WHAT?” his father yelled from the doorway.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sibling bonding with clare and rog

Roger flinched. He knew his dad was fairly homophobic, but he didn’t know he was behind him.

“So you  _ are  _ gay,” his father accused.

“I-“ Roger’s mother cut him off.

“Roger shouldn’t have to explain himself to you. If he’s gay, then whatever. It’s fine. It’s who he is,” she said, glaring at his father.

“I don’t want a gay son! I want grandchildren!” he shouted. Roger just stood there, trying not to let the tears fall.

“What about Clare?” Winifred hissed.

“Her children won’t have cousins! The whole family will be... wrong!” he stumbled over his words slightly. 

 

Wrong. He’d never be accepted into his family. He should have just kept quiet. He gave up trying to stop the tears from falling, and they streamed down his face. 

“Now look what you’ve done! Don’t you love your son?” she accused, wrapping a protective arm around Roger.

“Well I’m not sure I know anymore!” he yelled. That hurt. Roger pushed past his father, running up the stairs and into his room. No one loved him. He’d lost his father, probably forever. He was wrong, disgusting. But he couldn’t help it! It was so unfair! He could... adopt, or have a surrogate. He didn’t really want to be thinking that far into the future, but he was upset and thinking irrationally.

 

He heard a knock on his door but he ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to his mother, and he didn’t want to hear any apologies his father may have. He pulled the bedsheets further over his head, and lay there, sobbing. How many times had he cried today? Fuck, he was such a wimp. The door opened, and he felt a weight at the end of his bed. It was too light to be either of his parents.

“C-clare?” he croaked, sitting up.

“What happened?” she asked. She must have just come in from school.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said hoarsely, moving his pillow behind him.

“It clearly is, if it’s got you like this. Now tell me, what happened?” she said, taking his hand.

“I said it’s fucking nothing!” Roger yelled. He’d never shouted at Clare, let alone swore at her. She flinched, as he wrenched his hand away from her. Roger’s mother, having heard the shouting, came up the stairs and placed a hand on Clare’s back.

“Let’s give Roger a bit of space, yeah?” she tried to guide her daughter away from Roger, but Clare screamed,

“No!” and flung herself at Roger, who caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He held her as he cried.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as she lay half on top of him.

“I forgive you. Love you Roggie,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Thank you. Love you too,” he smiled into her hair.

 

Winifred must have disappeared at some point, because when Clare pulled away, the door was closed and their mother was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you going to tell me what happened now?” she said, pushing him over so she could get into bed too.

“Uh... my friend Brian, he- uh-“ Roger stuttered, embarrassed.

“He what?” Clare pressed. 12 year olds could be really persistent when they wanted to be.

“He kissed me. And I told Mum, and Dad heard, and now he thinks I’m gay,” Roger breathed out.

“Ooooh! Did you like it?” she asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, I liked it a lot,” he closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall.

“Do you like him?” she asked, smiling. She looked genuinely happy for him.

“Yeah. I really do,” he sighed, smiling back.

 

Dinner was tense. Extremely tense. Roger’s father sat as far away from Roger as possible, and the entire family sat in silence throughout the meal. Roger collected the plates afterwards, and helped his mother wash up. His dad made sure not to thank him, and to purposefully bump into him on his way to get a glass of beer. 

“Ow,” Roger muttered.

“What was that?” his father glared at him.

“Nothing,” Roger narrowed his eyes, which were still puffy from crying.

“That’s what I thought,” his dad growled. Roger ‘accidentally’ flicked water at his dad. His mother snorted, and Michael grabbed his arm.

“Go to your room,” he said icily. Roger raised a defiant eyebrow, staying exactly where he was.

“GO ON, FAG! DO IT!” he yelled, right in Roger’s face. Roger threw a wet teaspoon at him, and stomped up to his room, slamming each door on the way. He heard Clare shout downstairs,

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL MY BROTHER THAT!” Then there was more slamming of the doors, and soon Clare was also in his room, sulking at the end of his bed. Roger was stood by the window, looking out of it.

“I hate him sometimes,” she grumbled. 

“Me too. He hates me, so the feeling is mutual,” Roger turned round, looking at his sister.

“Do you have any homework you want help with?” he asked.

“I’ve got maths?” Clare said as if she didn’t really know. Or maybe she was adopting Roger’s attitude of not really caring.

 

And there they were, doing Clare’s maths homework, like they always used to do. 

“Every time you help me I always get full marks,” she smiled.

“I’m glad. You’re very clever,” he smiled back, as they finished.

“Not as clever as you,” Clare glared at one of the questions she didn’t understand.

“It doesn’t matter, really. I’ve just had more experience with these, because I’m older,” he stretched. She hummed.

“Can I braid your hair?” she asked him, looking up at him pleadingly.

“Fiiine,” he dragged out the ‘i’, and sat down so his back was against the end of his bed. Clare sat so she was above him, and started brushing out the knots in his hair. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting Clare do what she wanted with him. 

 

“Done!” she announced, handing him her little hand held mirror. He felt down the back of his head, feeling the intricate braid that Clare had worked so hard on.

“It’s so good!” he smiled at her.

“Give us a twirl!” she giggled. He glared at her.

“Don’t push your luck, you little urchin,” he lunged at her, tickling her until she was crying from laughter, throwing herself around on his bed. Anyone overhearing what was going on in his room would be confused, but they didn’t care. They missed having each other as company, as Roger had been spending all his time at the hospital.

“I’ve missed you,” she wheezed once he stopped attacking her.

“I’ve missed you too,” he hummed, “Now it’s your turn - sit down there and I’ll plait your hair.”


	15. Chapter 15

“I don’t know, Clare... is it too much?” Roger looked at his sister, adjusting the faux fur coat he was wearing. She finished off his mascara, and sat back, studying him.

“I think it looks okay... where exactly are you going?” she asked.

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me. He just said he’d pick me up at four, today,” Roger said, fiddling with the collar of his white shirt.

“Well, I think you look good. Put your sunglasses on again,” she instructed. He did as she asked. Clare knew best when it came to fashion. He looked at himself in the full length mirror, and decided he was satisfied with his look.

“I think all the boys will be smitten with you. Even the straight ones,” she smiled at him. He hugged her, thanking her. The doorbell rang.

“Shit,” he whispered, “Here we go!” 

“Good luck! Don’t get pregnant!” she grinned, walking with him down the stairs. His mother was standing at the door, chatting with Brian. Clare and Roger walked up to the door, smiling at Brian.

“Which one am I taking to dinner, then?” Brian smirked.

“We don’t look  _ that  _ similar,” Clare frowned. Roger didn’t say anything. Brian always made him speechless. The taller boy was wearing a tight jumper, that outlined his muscles deliciously. Roger had to stop himself from drooling.

“Hey Rog.”

“Fuck,” was all Roger could say.

“Roger! Language,” his mother scolded. Roger just stared at Brian. How could a human being be so beautiful, so... perfect?

“W-where are the crutches?” Roger stammered.

“Didn’t need them,” Brian smiled.

Clare hugged Roger from behind, and whispered,

“Go and get him, Rog,” so quietly only Roger could hear. Roger turned his head and kissed her temple, then hugged his mother too. 

“I’ll be on my way then,” he smiled, Clare’s words giving him a boost of confidence.

 

The door shut behind them.

“You look beautiful, Roger. Truly,” Brian smiled genuinely, taking Roger’s hand in his.

“Thank you. Not as beautiful as you, however,” Roger replied, blushing slightly. Brian shook his head.

“So where are we going?” Roger inquired, squeezing Brian’s hand.

“There’s a cute coffee shop around the corner from where I live, and then I was thinking... well, I was wondering if you’d like to lay down and look at the stars with me,” Brian blushed, and was speaking very quietly by the end of his sentence. Roger’s heart imploded.

“That sounds perfect, Bri. Really,” Roger smiled. 

“Okay, phew. I was worried,” Brian chuckled.

 

Brian was right. The coffee shop was very cute, and it wasn’t too far away either. They sat down, and Roger immediately recognised the waitress. He smiled as she came over.

“Hey Roger!” Anita grinned as she walked over to his table.

“Hi Anita,” he grinned back. She knew exactly how he felt about Brian. She’d also helped him rehearse some things to say, and particular things to do/wear.

“Is this him?” she winked. He blushed, nodding.

“Hello,” Brian waved awkwardly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she giggled.

“Anita!” Roger hissed. She shrugged.

“Are you ready to order?” she smirked.

“Rog?” Brian smiled.

“Yeah, I am if you are,” Roger smiled back.

“What can I get you boys?” Anita pulled out a little notepad.

 

“Is that the Anita you mentioned in therapy?” Brian asked, once she’d taken their orders and left.

“Yeah. And I don’t talk about you  that  much,” he grumbled. Brian grabbed his hand.

“It’s okay! I’m not going to judge you for anything, you should know that by now.” Roger smiled, and Anita gave him a thumbs up from behind Brian.

“This is nice,” Roger smiled, drawing a happy face in the window that had steamed up slightly due to their hot drinks.

“I’m glad. I like making you happy,” Brian grinned, nudging Roger’s foot with his own. Anita returned with their slices of cake, and Roger eyed his, hungrily.

“Usually that would be £1, but I’m going to give it to you for free. I want your date to be perfect,” Anita smiled.

“You really don’t have to-“ Brian started.

“I want to. Besides, happiness shouldn’t cost anything. And I’ve never seen Roger this happy,” she grinned, walking away.

 

Everything was going great. Too great. Roger couldn’t really believe it was actually going so smoothly, Brian must have planned everything out. They sat in the coffee shop for about an hour, then they waved goodbye to Anita, leaving a generous tip.

“There’s somewhere I want to show you,” Brian grinned, taking Roger’s hand and leading him around a corner. The record shop stood tall and proud, a welcoming “open” sign hanging in the doorway.

“Woah,” was all Roger could say. There was no way he could afford anything in there, but he smiled as they walked inside. Roger gasped as he saw an entire wall of Led Zeppelin vinyls. He then gasped again as Brian walked over to them, and picked one out. The self titled album almost seemed to glisten in his hands, and Roger almost screamed as Brian walked over to the till.

“What are you doing!” he hissed.

“Buying it for you?” Brian said, confused.

“I can see that! Why?” Roger whispered harshly.

“I don’t know. You seemed to want it, so I’ll buy it for you,” Brian shrugged, handing it to the man behind the counter.

“I hate you, you fucking dickhead,” Roger grinned, flinging his arms around Brian as Brian paid for the record. The cashier laughed, and they left the store, Roger grumbling the whole way.

 

“I still can’t believe you bought me that record,” Roger said, as they sat on the blanket. Brian had dragged him up a huge hill, and his legs ached like hell. But still, it was worth it for the view of the stars they got this deep in the countryside. It was a few hours after their little date at the coffee shop, and Brian had brought blankets for them to sit on, and various snacks. They were currently laying down next to each other on the blanket, holding hands and watching the stars above them. Yeah, it was pretty cheesy but Roger wasn’t complaining.

“Tell me about that one,” Roger pointed up to a bright star in the night sky. He snuggled closer to Brian as he listened to the older boy’s speech about the various different stars in the sky. Brian clearly had a passion for astronomy, and it made Roger smile, hearing all Brian had to say about it.

 

Roger propped himself up on his arm, smiling down at Brian. Brian smiled back up at him, eyes full of something unreadable.

“You’re so beautiful, Roger,” Brian said, sitting up.

“Th-thank you,” Roger blushed. Brian shuffled closer to him, placing a hand on Roger’s cheek.

“I mean it,” he said, leaning in slightly, rubbing Roger’s cheek with his thumb.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in almost the rest of the way.

“It’s the makeup,” Roger whispered back, blushing more.

“I really don’t think it is,” Brian whispered against Roger’s lips, his breath hot on Roger’s mouth. Roger placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder, and pressed their lips fully together. Brian hummed in satisfaction, pulling Roger closer. Brian’s other hand rested on Roger’s waist, and Roger swung a leg over Brian’s hips. Once he was comfortably situated on top of Brian, he leaned down and kissed Brian again.

“Fucking hell, Roger,” Brian breathed, both his hands on Roger’s hips.

“Sorry,” Roger grinned, clearly not sorry at all.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry for not posting yesterday and this chapter is kinda shitty but oh well i’ll have a better one up soon x

Roger had no idea kissing someone could feel this nice. He lay there, on top of Brian, with the curly haired boy’s strong arms wrapped around him. They were just kissing each other lazily, most of the time just having a little (big) cuddle.

“This is nice,” Roger said as he rolled off Brian, snuggling into Brian’s side.

“It is,” Brian mumbled, staring up at the stars, “I’ve always loved looking at the stars. But... your eyes are more beautiful,” he grinned romantically.

“Oh, shut up,” Roger smiled, pressing his face into Brian’s chest, “Wanna come round mine? And piss off my dad,” he mumbled into Brian.

“Always,” Brian stood up, and held out a hand for Roger. Roger gladly took it, and Brian hoisted him to his feet.

 

Brian held his hand the whole way down the hill, and they strolled down back into the denser population of the town. They easily found Roger’s house, but stopped outside. 

“Do you want to meet Freddie and John? I still kinda need to apologise... and thank them for taking me in?” Roger asked awkwardly.

“Of course!” Brian said, “Lead the way!”

“I think I ran this way?” Roger said, slightly unsure.

“You ran?” Brian said, confused.

“When Paul... stabbed you, I held you until the ambulance arrived - they took you away from me, I thought you were dead and I’d never see you again. So I ran. I didn’t know where I was going, but I felt so sick, so terrible that I’d let you... die in my arms. I collapsed on the street, and I woke up in their house,” Roger confessed, as they walked to Freddie and John’s. 

“Oh... I’m so sorry, Rog,” Brian stopped, taking Roger into his arms.

“I’ll never leave you. Ever. Unless you want me to, of course, but right now? I’m here to stay,” Brian promised, stroking up and down Roger’s back.

“Thank you,” Roger hummed into Brian’s chest.

 

The flash of a camera broke apart their embrace.

“I KNEW IT! JOHN YOU OWE ME A TENNER,” Freddie yelled, stuffing the camera in his bag.

“Fred-“ Roger broke off. Then John appeared out of nowhere, and Roger was being scooped into a warm, welcoming hug.

“We’ve missed you darling...” Freddie moaned in despair.

“Oi, you!” Freddie snapped at Brian.

“Join us,” he giggled. Brian chuckled, as he completed the embrace. They broke apart, with Freddie’s arm around John, and Brian’s arm around Roger.

“Oooooh look at us,” Freddie grinned, “Two pairs of fags!” Brian couldn’t help but laugh at John’s appalled expression. Roger tried to fake a laugh, remembering that’s what his father called him. Brian stroked Roger’s side lovingly, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Do come in!” John smiled tensely, opening the front door.

“Thank you,” Brian smiled, placing a hand on Roger’s lower back and guiding him into the house first. 

 

“Anyone want a cup of tea?” John spoke up, breaking the awkward silence they’d settled into.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Brian smiled, as Roger cuddled into his side. John smiled politely, and walked into the kitchen. Freddie carefully moved the scrabble board off the coffee table, and swore loudly when all the letters fell off. Roger giggled, and Freddie glared at him. Brian helped him put all the letters back in the bag, and folded the board back up into the box.

“Anyone fancy a game?” Freddie grinned.

“Fred’s good,” Roger warned. Brian cracked his knuckles.

“Let’s see about that,” he smirked. Fuck, Roger thought, competitive Brian was a sexy Brian. John came back with the tea, and they all sat down to play scrabble like one big family.

 

Brian won. Of course he did. But Roger didn’t mind. He was proud of Brian, and he already knew he was shit so he didn’t really bother trying. Brian yawned, stretching and wrapping an arm around Roger like you see people do in films. Roger giggled, blushing as Brian’s arm settled around his waist.

“Fucking ‘boondoggle’ is not a word!” Freddie shouted, stamping his foot.

“Don’t make me get the dictionary out again, Freddie,” John whined, laying his head in Freddie’s lap. Almost at once, all trace of anger was lost as Freddie looked down at his boyfriend.

“You win, Brian,” Freddie said dreamily, stroking John’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Brian murmured, kissing Roger’s temple lovingly. 

 

“It’s been lovely meeting you two, and thank you so much for taking care of Roger. Though we’ve got his father to piss off, so we’d best be going,” Brian said smoothly. Roger looked up at him, slightly dazed.

“It’s been nice to meet you too, and it was completely our pleasure to have Roger to stay. I wish you luck with his dad. We heard little... stories,” Freddie smiled, standing up from the couch with John half hanging off his arm. Brian chuckled, grasping Roger’s hand as the two stood up. 

“Come here, you two,” Freddie opened his arms for a hug, and Roger almost jumped into his embrace. John wrapped his arms around Freddie and Roger, and Brian stepped in to complete it. 

“I’ve missed you,” Roger mumbled into Freddie’s chest. 

“We’ve missed you too, love,” Freddie said, kissing the top of Roger head. Roger expected Brian to tense up and be all possessive, but he was fine with it. He looked rather happy, actually. That Roger had some good friends he could rely on.

 

They held hands the entire way back to Roger’s house.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Roger proposed, squeezing Brian’s hand as they stopped outside the front door.

“I- I’d love to,” Brian agreed slightly breathlessly. Roger grinned.

“Come on in,” he said mischievously, ringing the doorbell. Clare answered it, and immediately flung her arms around Roger. He lifted her up, and span her round a couple of times.

“Clare,” said a gruff voice from behind her. She scowled, detaching herself from Roger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear as she took a step back.

“Why are you back so late?” his dad accused, narrowing his eyes at Brian.

“We wanted to see the stars,” Roger smiled up at Brian, who wrapped a protective arm around Roger’s waist.

“Aw, isn’t that romantic!” his dad said sarcastically, shooting Roger a death glare.

“It was,” Roger grinned, resting his head against Brian.

“Look, Roger,” his dad huffed, “I don’t like you being out so late with... other _boys_.”

“What if I was a girl? What would you say then?” Brian asked, stroking Roger’s side.

“Bri, don’t-” Roger warned, tensing slightly.

“I- I don’t-“ his father stuttered, looking at Clare for help.

“He’d probably be fine with it. Might even give you some tips on how to fuck her best,” Clare narrowed her eyes at him.

“Clare!” Michael exclaimed, shocked at hearing such words come out his daughter’s mouth. Roger snickered, and Brian snorted.

“That’s my sister,” Roger walked inside the house, with Brian close behind. He took Clare’s hand, and they pushed past his father, and made their way to Roger’s bedroom.

 

Brian sat down on Roger’s bed, and Roger sat in between his legs so Brian was hugging him from behind. Roger shuffled back so his back was against Brian’s chest, and hummed in content.

“Are you okay, love?” Brian murmured sweetly into Roger’s ear.

“Very. Well, I am now,” Roger smiled.

“Ooh! Brian....” Clare smiled innocently. They had almost forgotten she was there. Roger felt bad.

“Yeah?” Brian said suspiciously, taking Roger’s hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. 

“Can I braid your hair...?”


	17. Chapter 17

They’d managed to eject Clare out of the room. She agreed quite easily, as she was pretty tired. She hugged them both goodnight, after giving Brian two french plaits.

“Thank you, Clare. It looks lovely,” he had smiled, kissing the top of her head. She blushed and hugged Roger too. Once she was out of the room, Roger turned around and kissed the corner of Brian’s mouth. Brian took Roger’s face in his hands.

“So beautiful. My beautiful boy,” he whispered, stroking Roger’s cheek with his thumb. Roger blushed a deep red.

“I- I’m not that pretty...” Roger stammered, his eyes flickering down to Brian’s lips.

“Shush that beautiful mouth of yours, Roger. You look stunning,” Brian smiled.

“Bri...” Roger flushed, as Brian stroked his thumb over Roger’s lips. Brian leaned forward so his lips were just brushing Roger’s.

“Yes, Rog?” he teased, closing his eyes.

“Kiss me,” Roger whined.

“As you wish,” Brian said, pressing their lips together. Roger smiled into the kiss, as he moved his hand up to remove the hair ties that held Brian’s hair into braids. Brian hummed as Roger undid the plaits, his delicate fingers working through Brian’s hair. Once the plaits were gone, Roger kept his hands up at Brian’s scalp, gently massaging it. Brian sighed happily, moving one hand to rest on the back of Roger’s neck. Brian broke away very slightly.

“Satisfied?” he breathed against Roger’s lips. Roger shook his head, leaning back in for more.

 

The door banged open. Roger jumped, immediately breaking the kiss. His dad pulled a sad, slightly disgusted face.

“Time for bed, Rog,” he said. He looked disappointed, more than anything.

“Oh,” he stood up, walking over to his dad.

“I’m really sorry, Dad...” Roger bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s okay, I guess... I know you can’t help it, I guess I was just shocked,” Michael grimaced. A betraying tear slipped out. Fuck, he was crying again. Michael stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Roger.

“It’s all okay now,” he said soothingly, rubbing Roger’s back. Behind them, Brian hugged his knees to his chest, knowing that he started all this. Roger broke away from his dad, and cleared his throat.

“Dad... meet Brian?” he said awkwardly. Brian immediately stood up, shaking Michael’s hand. Michael narrowed his eyes at Brian in that overprotective fatherly way. Once it seemed he had checked out and approved Brian, he said,

“Goodnight boys,” and left the room.

 

Roger immediately fell into Brian’s arms, sighing with relief. It seemed that when he didn’t know how to express a certain emotion, he would just cry until he felt better. And if that was his coping mechanism, then so be it. He cried into Brian’s chest, so happy that his dad actually accepted him for who he was.

“Bri,” he sobbed, not really knowing why he said the other boy’s name. Brian held him throughout his little breakdown, and rubbed his back just as his dad had done. Brian held Roger at arms’ length, and kissed his tears away, tasting salt on his lips.

“Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” Brian said, placing a hand on Roger’s lower back and guiding him to the bathroom, with directions from Roger. Brian sat Roger down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, and wiped the remains of his makeup away. 

“Which one’s yours?” he asked, gesturing to the toothbrushes.

“The green one,” Roger answered. Brian picked it up, put some toothpaste on it and handed it to Roger.

“I think there’s a spare one in the draw?” Roger offered. Brian nodded, opening the door and quite rightly seeing an unopened toothbrush in there.

 

Once they were both ready, they walked back to Roger’s room. Well, Brian walked. Roger insisted on being carried, as he was ‘so tired’ after his long day he couldn’t walk. Brian gladly obliged, carrying Roger on his hip and setting him down on the bed.

“Undress me,” Roger grumbled. Brian chuckled, and started on the buttons of Roger’s shirt.

“Gladly,” he said jokingly, pulling off the big fur coat Roger was wearing, before discarding the shirt (throwing it somewhere across the room. Roger thought it landed in the bin).

“Can I take off your trousers?” Brian asked, stroking Roger’s bare shoulder gently. Roger nodded, too tired to really say anything. Brian swiftly undid the button and pulled the fly down, and helped Roger shimmy out of the tight trousers.

“Do you have pyjamas?” Brian said, looking around the room.

“No, I... I generally just sleep in my boxers. It gets really hot in here,” he was quick to defend himself, but Brian thought there was absolutely no need.

“Oh me too, yeah don’t worry,” Brian smiled, tugging his skin tight jumper off - Roger knew he wasn’t wearing anything underneath - and then pulling off his jeans. His boxers had guitars on them.

“Do you play?” Roger chuckled, making grabby hand motions for Brian to join him in the bed.

“I guess,” Brian shrugged, eyeing up the telecaster in the corner of Roger’s bedroom.

“I try. I’m not very good,” Roger smiled as Brian lay down next to him.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” Brian mumbled, smiling sleepily as Roger threw an arm over his chest. He pulled the covers over both of them, and slowly drifted off to sleep with his nose in Roger’s hair.

 

Roger kissed Brian fiercely, whimpering as the older boy pushed him away. Brian pushed him against the wall, and hissed into his ear.

“Now, Roger,” Paul whispered, wrapping a hand around Roger’s throat. Roger screamed, thrashing about, trying to get Paul off him. But Paul’s grip was strong, and Roger failed to get him off. 

“Paul! Stop!” he screamed. Paul kissed him roughly, starting on the button of his jeans. Roger screamed one last bloodcurdling scream before he woke up, Brian standing at the other side of the room nervously. Roger immediately started to cry, curling into a ball and burying his face into his knees. Brian walked over to him, and sat down.

“Can I hug you?” he asked, placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder. Roger shook his head, shuffling as far away from Brian as possible. Ouch, that hurt.

“Paul... just leave me, please,” Roger whispered, sniffling.

“Roger. It’s me, Brian. I’m not going anywhere,” Brian said, sadly.

“Bri?” Roger mumbled, looking up. 

“Yeah, it’s me, love,” Brian said, holding a hand out to Roger. Roger took it, tentatively looking up at Brian. Brian smiled down at him, and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“C-can you... h-hold m-me?” he asked shakily.

“Of course,” Brian scooped Roger into his arms, rubbing his back, trying to get him to stop shaking.

“You’re not going to rape me?” Roger whispered in disbelief.

“Of course not,” Brian stuttered, “I- I would never, I c-couldn’t!” Roger leaned into Brian’s chest, listening to the older boy’s heartbeat.

“What time is it?” he whispered.

“3am,” Brian answered. The door opened.

“Roger? Brian?” Winifred Taylor asked, observing the two boys. Brian was rocking Roger back and forth across his lap, whispering sweet words to the other boy.

“What happened?” she asked sleepily.

“Roger had a nightmare,” Brian explained.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, placing a hand on Roger’s shoulder. He shook his head, tucking his head under Brian’s chin.

“Okay...” she said, slightly deflated, “Come and find me if you need anything.” She left, seeming relieved.

“Bri...” Roger whispered, falling asleep in Brian’s arms. Brian smiled, adjusting their position so they were both comfortable. Brian slowly fell asleep, stroking Roger’s side. 

 

Brian woke up to warm blue eyes looking up at him.

“Good morning,” Brian yawned. 

“Morning,” Roger smiled. It was then he noticed the time.

“I fucking hate Wednesdays,” Brian grumbled, as Roger wrapped his arms around him and completely smushed his face into his chest. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for uploading this so late - i fell off a trampoline and got a load of thorns in my hands so i couldn’t write for a bit 😬 i’ve got one still stuck in there and my elbows are all grazed but i’ll be okay i’m a big girl 
> 
> thank you so much for taking the time to read this my loves, i hope you enjoy chapter 18
> 
> also like 3000 hits? I love you all, my darlings xx

Roger missed Brian for the whole day. He’d occasionally been doodling Brian’s name in his schoolbooks, drawing little hearts around it. He sighed as his geography teacher told him to stop drawing and pay attention. Next came the apocalypse of people trying to see what he’d drawn. Someone snatched his book away from him, and with a surprising surge of confidence, he slapped their arm as hard as he could. The smack echoed through the room, and the boy yelled out in pain. There was a red mark beginning to form on his wrist. Roger’s book fell to the floor, open on the page he was trying so hard to hide. Everyone crowded round. Roger quickly got up and picked up the book, but everyone had already seen.

“Who’s Brian?” one girl giggled, looking him up and down. Roger fished out the polaroid picture that Freddie had taken of them hugging yesterday. He handed it to her sheepishly. She smiled down at the picture, handing it back to him.

“He’s cute,” she said. Roger nodded in agreement.

“So you’re gay?” one boy shouted from across the classroom.

“I don’t really know,” Roger said honestly. The boy shrugged.

“Cool,” he said sitting back down. The teacher’s mouth opened in shock. He flinched. He knew that look. That was the look that his dad still occasionally gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking. 

“Hey! What was that for?” one of the students at the back accused the teacher.

“What?” she stammered back.

“That look!” he insisted.

“I- he- he’s gay! It’s-“ she stuttered.

“What’s so bad about that?” the boy he’d smacked earlier spoke up.

“It’s... wrong! Unnatural!” she exclaimed. 

“I’ve heard that one before,” Roger chuckled, unscathed. He wasn’t used to people standing up for him.

“I genuinely thought you’d be more accepting than that, miss,” one girl said. The teacher looked down. 

“Roger, could you stand outside please?” she asked.

“Is that my punishment? For being gay, something I can’t help? Sure,” he spat, making sure his chair scraped on the floor as he got up. He slammed the door behind him, and threw himself against the wall in anger. He threw his fist against the wall furiously, hearing a satisfying bang as the wall dented. A searing pain shot up his right hand, but he punched the wall again, blood running down his knuckles. He laughed hysterically, tears streaming down his cheeks as he jumped up and down. The teacher of the class next to him came out, looking worried.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking from Roger’s smiling face to his bleeding knuckles. His eyes then landed on the hole in the wall.

“Yeah!” Roger said excitedly.

“What are you doing out here?” the teacher asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, I got sent out for being gay,” he laughed, throwing his head back, not caring when he hit the wall.

“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you something for your hand?” the teacher said. He looked like he was genuinely scared for his life.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” Roger giggled, “But a plaster would be nice,” he sighed, sitting down in the chair, all trace of energy gone.

 

The teacher came back with two of the school nurses. One for medical assistance, and the other for... mental health concerns. Roger smiled apologetically at them, holding up his injured hand.

“Yeah... those look pretty broken to me,” one nurse said, grimacing.

“Really?” Roger grumbled.

“Use your other hand,” the male teacher chuckled, smiling at him knowingly.

“I will, but now I can’t play the drums either!” he exclaimed in annoyance.

“Not to mention Brian’s going to kill me,” he added shamefully.

“Brian..?” the mental health lady asked. Roger smiled at the mention of Brian’s name, and pulled out the little polaroid picture, handing it to the nurse.

“He looks like a lovely young man,” she smiled, handing the photo back to him. He hissed as the medical lady cleaned the wounds with antiseptic. 

“That’s why I got sent out,” he explained to the mental health one. Mrs Webber, she was called.

“The photo?” Webber asked, narrowing her eyes.

“And for being gay, yeah,” he huffed.

“That’s terrible!” she exclaimed, just as his teacher walked out the classroom to see what was going on.

“Roger? What’s all this?” she asked. He giggled.

“Punched a wall, didn’t I? Is it not obvious?” She sighed, muttering something under her breath. Probably a gay slur, he decided. The male teacher that had helped him before disappeared back into his classroom. She turned on her heel, about to go back into the classroom when Mrs Webber stopped her.

“What do you have against homosexuals?” she asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

“The bible clearly says, “Man should not sleep with man”.” she quoted, standing her ground. Webber rolled her eyes. 

“Go back into your classroom. I’ll speak to you later.” The teacher shrugged, opening the door. Roger grinned at his classmates, who all smiled back, shaking their heads.

 

News quickly spread around the school, and a couple of people even asked to sit with Roger at lunch. He gladly accepted, as he didn’t have many friends himself, other than Anita, who was ill.

“You’re so brave for coming out,” one boy smiled at him. Reg Dwight, wasn’t it?

“It was kind of an accident,” Roger laughed.

“Oh,” Reg laughed too.

“you’re Reginald...? Right?” Roger said, slightly unsure.

“Please, just call me Elton. I just prefer it, and Reginald is such a posh name.”

“I’m still Roger,” Roger chuckled, peeling his orange.

“What are your... hobbies?” Elton asked, feebly trying to make conversation. Clearly he was just as socially awkward as Roger was himself.

“I play the drums, I guess. Although I won’t be able to soon with a stupid cast on my hand,” he grumbled.

“That’s rough,” Elton said sympathetically.

“Yeah...” Roger breathed, looking down. A boy walked past their table. He had a bright red handprint on his arm, and Roger winced. He tapped the boy’s shoulder.

“Hey, mate, I’m sorry for hitting you,” he tried to smile, and the boy nodded.

“Don’t worry, it was totally worth it to shout at O’Malley,” he grinned. Roger clapped the boy on the back.

“Cool, cool,” he chuckled. Why wasn’t making friends this easy at the start of the year?

 

“Then you  WHAT?”  Brian exclaimed, doodling a guitar on Roger’s cast.

“I was angry! And it’s not my fault! There’s nothing I can do about it, it’s who I am!” he grumbled in response, as Brian finished his little drawing. He had his head in Brian’s lap, and he was sheepishly telling the story of how his hand ended up in a cast.

“I’m not angry, I’m just... shocked, I guess. Sorry,” Brian said, brushing Roger’s hair away from his face. Roger smiled dreamily up at Brian.

“What are we?” Roger asked.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Brian grinned.

“Bri...” Roger looked up at Brian through his thick eyelashes, and Brian’s heart fluttered.

“Y-yes Rog?” he stammered.

“Will you... be my- uh, boyfriend?” Roger stuttered with a smile. Brian pulled Roger up by his shirt and kissed him roughly. Roger pushed Brian back on his bed, climbing on top of him. Their kiss didn’t break as Brian’s hand made its way down Roger’s back. Brian groaned as Roger ground his hips down against his own. Roger pulled away, looking down at Brian through lustful eyes.

“Yes. Fuck, yes I will,” Brian panted, cautiously resting a hand on Roger’s ass. Roger flinched, and Brian removed it instantly, pulling Roger up into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Roger. Truly,” he said, as Roger started to shake. He rubbed Roger’s back gently, the soothing motions comforting the younger boy.

“It’s okay, I just... Paul used to touch me like that...” Roger sighed. Brian kissed his forehead.

“Rog, look at me,” he said, placing two fingers under Roger’s chin, tilting the younger boy’s head up to look at him.

“I will never touch you how he did. I love you for who you are, not just what you look like, okay? And we can take things slow, yeah? We’ve got time, and we don’t even have to do anything like this if you don’t want to,” Brian smiled, taking Roger’s free hand gently.

“Thank you... wait, you love me?” Roger’s eyes widened.

“Yes, Roger I do. I really, really do.”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Roger’s bed felt empty without Brian. It was cold, and Roger missed having those strong arms around him. He tried to use a substitute Brian (a pillow), but it wasn’t as warm; didn’t have beautiful curly hair; and couldn’t whisper sweet nothings into his ear while tracing little patterns on his hip. Roger huffed loudly.

“Brian...” he half whimpered, clinging on to the pillow. It didn’t reply. Obviously.

 

The next morning he woke up cold and very much alone. He grumbled to himself as he stretched, getting out of bed. He immediately panicked as he heard men’s voices downstairs. Him and his father were the only males in the house, and if he was upstairs, who was his father talking to? He threw on his uniform, leaving the shirt untucked (what a rebel) and rolled his sleeves up, throwing his blazer over his shoulder. He loosened his tie slightly, and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt. He smirked at himself in the mirror. He could talk his way out of any situation now. What?! he was paranoid. He padded down the stairs, his bag over one shoulder. He licked his lips before walking into the dining room. 

 

His smirk grew as he saw it was Brian who his dad had been talking to. Brian was in his uniform, which looked absolutely pristine and not a crease in sight. Brian’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Roger, who purposefully swayed his hips as he sauntered over to Brian.

“Hey sexy,” he whispered into Brian’s ear, kissing just below his jaw.

“You look incredible,” Brian whispered back, smiling. Roger took Brian’s hand.

“Thank you,” he grinned, flashing his perfect smile. Roger’s confidence had grown ever since Paul had been locked up and everyone could see it. He was almost a new person. His dad cleared his throat, and said,

“Your mum left you something in the freezer.” Roger raised an eyebrow, walking over to the fridge and sticking his ass out as he bent down to open the freezer. It took all of Brian’s willpower not to reach out and spank him. Roger’s eyes landed on some frozen yoghurt ice lollies that his mum had made the previous night. There was a note that read, “you’re welcome,” with a little winky face next to it.  _Mum, you’re a saint,_ Roger thought.

 

He stood up, and made direct eye contact with Brian as he wrapped his lips around the ice lolly. He moaned at the taste, and Brian choked on his own saliva. His dad raised his eyebrows. Roger shrugged, smirking. Michael shook his head, and stood up. 

“I’d better be getting to work,” he coughed, excusing himself. He left the room, and Roger sucked the lolly into his mouth again, deeper this time, and Brian practically groaned at the sight.

“Fucking hell, Rog,” he breathed, walking over to him. Roger pulled his mouth off the lolly with a pop, and Brian kissed him roughly.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered into Roger’s ear huskily. Roger moaned needily, as Brian’s teeth grazed his earlobe.

“My bed felt so empty without you,” he blurted out. Brian smiled sweetly.

“I know. I wanted to be there so bad,” he wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist, pulling the shorter boy into him.

“Love you, Bri,” he mumbled into Brian’s chest.

“Love you too, Rog,” Brian replied, kissing the top of Roger’s head.

 

Roger bit his lip. He was violating three school rules, but he felt so good. 1, not tucking his shirt in. 2, his tie was too loose, and 3, sunglasses. He smirked as he opened the door of the main building. Everyone’s heads turned to look at him, but this time he didn’t care. He might even go as far as saying he liked the attention. Anita winked at him as he walked past her, and he grinned back. He smirked as he saw his geography teacher, the one that had sent him out for his sexuality. He blew her a kiss, making the hallway erupt into laughter. Her cheeks burned red in embarrassment and humiliation, and Roger grinned evilly, carrying on walking.

 

That day was a good day. Roger didn’t normally trust Thursdays, but that day was good. Carrying on with his rebellious attitude, he didn’t bother getting changed after PE, and walked out of the school at the end of the day in his kit. His shorts highlighted his ass perfectly, and his shirt outlined all his muscles (which weren’t many, but Roger took what he could get). He made his way to Brian’s school, leaning on the gates outside. People were leaving, but he caught sight of a familiar face in the sea of people. He beckoned with a finger for her to come over to him, and she complied. 

“Yes?” she spat.

“Who the fuck are you?” he hissed at her.

“Chrissie Mullen,” she said, smiling annoyingly.

“Well you’re not, are you? So why don’t you tell me,” he chuckled darkly, “Who are you, and why are you pretending to be a dead girl?”

“I’m not dead,” she said stubbornly.

“You’re not. But Chrissie is. So tell me. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!” he yelled, drawing some attention. She sighed.

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because- what is wrong with you?!” he said, exasperated.

“I love him. He’s my boyfriend,” she smiled manically.

“Uh, no he’s not!” Roger narrowed his eyes.

“We’re going to get married as soon as we’re old enough!” Roger saw something crazy in her eyes, and he stepped back instinctively.

“You’re not! He doesn’t even know you! What are you, some crazed stalker?!” he shouted, as she stepped forward.

“You’re in my way,” she hissed menacingly.

“I’m- what? Just walk around me!” he laughed, looking around. They’d attracted quite a crowd.

“I mean, you should be dead. Your little attempt should have succeeded, and then he wouldn’t be so stupidly in love with you!” she screamed. Maybe once upon a time Roger would have cried, or had a panic attack. But this time, he just laughed.

“You’re crazy,” he chuckled.

“I’m not crazy! We’re in love!” she persisted.

“Listen here, little girl,” he snarled, stepping forward, “I suggest you get over him pretty fast. Quite frankly, he’s my boyfriend and you don’t stand a chance. Leave. Him. Alone.” Maybe he would have slapped her. But he was better than that. He stepped back, an icy glare fixed upon his face.

“NEVER!” she screamed so loudly he cringed. Everyone turned to stare.

“You need help!” he yelled, “He’s my boyfriend! I’m sorry but that’s just how it is!”

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he heard a familiar voice say, and an arm snaked around his waist.

 

“You are, love,” Roger smiled, as Brian kissed his cheek.

“What’s going on?” Brian said.

“You have a stalker,” Roger said through gritted teeth.

“Brian! I love you!” she said dreamily, as he grimaced.

“Who are you?” he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s me! Chrissie,” she grinned evilly. Brian’s face crumpled, and he buried his face in Roger’s neck.

“It’s okay, love. It will all be okay,” Roger cooed, stroking Brian’s cheek. The taller boy nodded.

“I hate you,” his voice cracked as he spat at the girl, “I never want to see you again!” 

There was a blaring of sirens as a police car pulled up. Before they knew it, the girl was being manhandled into a car, kicking and screaming. Brian took a deep breath, and kissed Roger’s forehead.

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” he caressed Roger’s cheek lovingly, forgetting about the people watching them. 

“No, no she didn’t Bri. Are you okay?” Roger looked up at Brian’s tear stained face.

“Yes, yes I’ll be fine. As long as you’re okay,” he smiled, hugging Roger to his chest.

“Love you,” Roger reminded him.

“I know, love. Love you too.”

 

Unfortunately (for Brian), Brian only had work experience after school, which meant he still had to sit in his lessons. He didn’t particularly mind, as he rather liked school, but it was a bit lonely sometimes. Roger knew all this as Brian hadn’t stopped talking the whole walk to the mental health centre. Holding hands, of course. They brushed off the disgusted looks, and accepted a muffin a young boy had given them as a token of appreciation for being openly gay. Harold smiled as the boys walked into his office.

“Hello, Bri, Rog,” he nodded at them.

“Hello doc,” Roger smiled, sitting on Brian’s lap in the small armchair. 

“Is there something I should know?” he raised his eyebrows at their rather comfortable position.

“Roger’s my... friend,” Brian smiled, slightly embarrassed as he linked their fingers together, being mindful of the cast on Roger’s other hand.

“I’m very happy for the two of you!” Harold genuinely smiled, “I assume I’ll be seeing a lot more of you then, Roger!” he chuckled. Roger grinned back.

“I suppose so,” he agreed.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i’m so sorry for the wait  
> basically i was setting up for the school concert on monday, and i wheeled a trolley full of chairs over my foot, so i spent monday evening at the hospital :/  
> tuesday was the concert which lasted ages (although i did do a little solo, singing love of my life by queen :)) so i couldn’t write then. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and i’ll try and have a better chapter up tomorrow.  
> does anyone even read this 😂😂

__

Therapy went pretty smoothly. Roger answered a few questions like “how did your had take the news?” and “is there anyone particularly homophobic?”. To which he answered honestly, Brian stroking his side lovingly. 

 

“At least you don’t have to sleep on the sofa this time,” Brian smirked as Roger stepped into his house.

“Oh? And where will I be sleeping this time?” Roger said cheekily, giving Brian’s hand a squeeze.

“Somewhere I can hold you very close to me, never letting you leave,” Brian said, pulling Roger into a tight hug. Roger smiled into Brian’s chest.

“I don’t want to leave,” Roger admitted.

“I don’t want you to leave either... come on, I’ll show you my room,” Brian chuckled, taking Roger’s hand and leading him to his bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Roger pressed his body up against Brian’s. There was a certain darkness in Roger’s eyes that Brian had never seen before, and it excited him. Brian gasped as Roger pushed him against the wall, grinding their hips together. 

“R-Roger—“ he managed, as Roger tangled his fingers in his hair and kissed him roughly. Roger broke away from the kiss, and dived in to suck and kiss at Brian’s neck. The taller boy was falling apart under Roger’s touch, and Roger was living for the sounds Brian was making. Roger sucked a dark hickey onto Brian’s neck, and the older boy’s knees almost buckled.

“Fuck, Rog-“ he gasped, out of breath.

“B-bri,” Roger moaned as Brian’s hands made their way to his ass.

“Yes, Rog?”

“I-I n-need you inside m-me, please, I-“ Brian cut Roger off.

“Roger,” he said, tilting Roger’s chin up to look at him. Roger’s eyes were dark with want and lust, and he licked his lips.

“We’re fifteen,” Brian breathed out, smiling sadly into Roger’s eyes.

“Wh- what difference does it make?” he stuttered, looking slightly disappointed.

“I promise you, when we’re older. On your eighteenth birthday, I’ll give you an amazing night, yeah?” he vowed, taking Roger’s hands.

“That’s a long time away, Bri...” Roger’s face fell. yes 

“I know, Rog. But, it’s us! I believe in us, I really do. I’ve... I’ve never met someone like you, really...” Brian smiled, his expression filling Roger with warmth and courage. 

“When I’m eighteen,” he said firmly.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” Brian winked, then chuckled at his attempt to be sexy. Roger wasn’t laughing so much, as he flung himself at Brian, attacking his lips. Brian’s gasp of surprise was muffled by Roger’s mouth, and the smaller boy bucked his hips up against Brian. Brian looked down, seeing Roger still painfully hard. He sighed to himself.  _This is illegal_ _,_ he thought, as he slipped a hand down in between them. He squeezed Roger through the front of his trousers, and Roger moaned loudly. Brian froze.

“This is illegal,” Brian croaked, pulling his hand back up.

“I- who needs to know?” Roger bit his lip, looking up at Brian hopefully.

“When you’re sixteen, we can do this. When you’re eighteen, I’ll fuck you,” Brian promised, placing his hand on Roger’s cheek. Roger sighed. 

“Okay, Bri. I get it...” he looked down. 

“No! No, Rog it’s not you! I’m just a goodie two shoes, I don’t want to break the law,” Brian said quickly, taking Roger’s hands.

“It’s fine, really,” Roger whispered, his voice cracking.

“Roger, I want you. Just not yet, okay?” Brian went in for a hug, but Roger stopped him angrily.

“I said it’s fine!” he screamed. His throat felt like it was on fire.

“Bri,” he whispered brokenly, his breaths coming short and rapidly. Brian lifted Roger into his arms, and sat on his bed. Roger’s throat started to close up, and he wildly gasped for air.

“Roger. I want you to breathe for me,” Brian said, tracing a little circle in Roger’s palm. Roger counted in his head, following the breathing pattern Harold had told him to do.

“You-“ he wheezed, and Brian kissed his forehead.

“Shhhh, it’s okay baby,” he said calmly, using his other hand to rub Roger’s back.

“No, I- let me- when I said you would never be a doctor- I-,” hot tears streamed down Roger’s cheeks as he cuddled into Brian. Brian smiled sadly, and pulled Roger close.

“Keep breathing for me, Rog. I forgive you,” he murmured, kissing Roger’s forehead. Brian counted along with Roger, and Roger followed the numbers. 

 

Once Roger had calmed down, Brian went to fetch his guitar. He proudly returned, sitting down opposite Roger and making sure she was in tune. 

“Can I play you a song?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Of course!” Roger said slightly hoarsely. Brian squeezed his boyfriend’s hand before strumming his Red Special a few times. He turned her amp on, turning the volume down slightly so he didn’t deafen everyone.

“I, uh... wrote this before I knew you loved me,” he coughed, “I was going through a bit of depression, I guess, and this is what came out of it.” Roger nodded at him to continue. Brian took a deep breath, and began.

“There’s no time for us,” he started to sing. He heard Roger’s breath hitch, and looked over as he carried on.

“There’s no place for us,” he continued, becoming slightly more confident.

“What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?” his strumming grew louder, and he smiled to himself, satisfied with his performance.

“Who wants to live forever?” he sang, opening up the question to whoever heard. Roger placed a hand on Brian’s knee, nodding at him. The question remained unanswered, as Brian repeated himself.

“Who wants to live forever?” 

 

By the end of the song, Roger was in tears. 

“That was beautiful, Bri,” he croaked. 

“Thank you, Rog...” he smiled.

“Really, it was amazing,” he sniffed, “God, I love you so much, Brian May,” Roger attacked Brian with a hug as soon as he put his guitar down.

“I love you too, Roger Taylor,” he grinned, booping Roger’s nose adoringly. Roger squealed as Brian lifted him into his arms, pulling him up the bed so they were resting against the headboard.

“I like your bed,” Roger giggled as he heard his own words.

“I like my bed too. When I can sleep, that is,” Brian laughed.

“My Bri,” Roger mumbled as he latched onto Brian like a strange limpet. Brian had to stop himself for audibly ‘aww’ing, as Roger buried his face in his chest. The smaller boy closed his eyes, and smiled. He really did like Brian’s bed.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, my darlings. depression sucks, i’ll tell you. i pretty much had no motivation, but after forcing myself to write this chapter i feel a lot better. expect another chapter soon! x

“Rog, it’s literally five o’clock in the afternoon... are you really going to sleep now?” Brian looked down at his boyfriend fondly.

“No...” Roger mumbled into Brian’s chest. Brian sat up, pulling Roger up with him. Roger glared at him sleepily.

“Hey! I wanted to sleep,” he grumbled. Brian chuckled.

“You just said you weren’t,” he countered, smiling. Roger huffed, leaning into Brian’s shoulder. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in?” Brian said, taking Roger’s hand. Harold gave an awkward smile as he walked into the room.

“Hi, Dad,” Brian smiled.

“Hello. I hate to ruin the little moment you’ve got going on there, but I do need to remind you that the trial is tomorrow. You’ll both be missing school, and you need to prepare,” he said slightly tensely. Brian’s grip on Roger’s hand tightened protectively.

“What kind of stuff should we wear?” Roger asked, looking down at his shirtless form. Brian blushed, lightly stroking Roger’s flat tummy.

“Suits, something smart,” Harold raised an eyebrow, “and we’ll need as much evidence against Prenter as you have.” He nodded professionally, and left the room.

“Where did my shirt go?” he grinned up at Brian.

“Maybe it got lost in all the... fuss,” Brian kissed Roger’s nose. Roger giggled.

 

The trial was horrible. Roger wished just to be back in bed with Brian, cuddling and just being in love.

“Not guilty!” Paul wailed, “he’s lying to you! He just wanted to break up with me, but he made this all up! He never wanted to be openly gay, never. Always scared of what people would think... and then he stabbed his friend!”

Roger sighed, shaking his head. He hated the lies. He hated Paul.

“Defendant pleads not guilty,” the judge said, slightly bored. He heard Brian exhale loudly behind him, and Harold stood up with the black box. Roger cringed down in his seat as the recording of the phone call began to play. He saw Paul freeze across the room. Paul shot him an icy glare, one Roger would never forget. He flinched. Paul smirked, shaking his head in defeat.

 

“And Brian is... the boy you stabbed?” the judge narrowed his eyes at Paul.

“Supposedly stabbed,” he said defensively. The judge hummed, looking over the photos of Brian’s stab wounds. The judge took a deep breath and said, 

“To be honest with you, I think it’s rather obvious that Prenter is guilty. But if we’re going to do this professionally,” he paused for laughter, “the defendant is held to answer.” Roger heard Brian chuckle behind him.

“We will continue this in a fortnight, giving both parties time to prepare, and for me to look over the evidence.” Roger exhaled sharply as he stood up. He didn’t miss the glare Paul shot his way. Roger found himself smiling back, apologetically. 

“I still love you, Roger!” Paul yelled. Roger glared, and stumbled back into someone.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered. The person placed their hand on his waist, and Roger flinched, turning his head to see who it was. 

“Careful, Rog,” Harold said, “how are you feeling?” 

“He’s still looking at me,” Roger whispered. Harold wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll fetch Brian,” he said, disappearing. Paul was held by two security guards, and it looked like they agreed to lead him over to Roger.

 

“Hi Roggie,” Paul smirked.

“Hello, Paul,” Roger said, looking around for Brian or Harold. Neither was in sight.

“How’s Chrissie?” Paul smiled evilly.

“I don’t know, I’ve never met her,” Roger said, trying to stay calm. One of the guards raised an eyebrow.

“But I paid her to—“ Roger cut him off.

“She fooled you as well? Chrissie is dead, Paul. She hanged herself in her bedroom with a rose in her mouth as it was her and Brian’s anniversary,” Roger sighed.

“Then who was that?” Paul looked embarrassed.

“Some obsessed stalker,” Roger shivered. Paul frowned. Roger jumped as an arm snaked around his waist. He relaxed as he realised who it was.

“Hmm...” Paul narrowed his eyes at Brian, “I didn’t think I’d see you standing again.” Roger tensed up, and clenched his hands into fists.

“After you stabbed me?” Brian laughed.

“After Roger stabbed you,” Paul corrected.

“I don’t even get it! Why are you so adamant Roger stabbed me, we can just look at the CCTV and find out for ourselves!” Brian pulled Roger closer protectively. Paul’s eyes widened.

“CCTV?” he gulped. Brian smirked.

“I think we’re done here,” he said, leading Roger away from the criminal. 

 

Brian shook his head once they were outside. 

“He makes me feel sick,” Brian mumbled, taking his boyfriend’s hand.

“Me too,” Roger grimaced, as they sat down on a bench.

“Two weeks. Then he’ll be in prison,” Brian said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself.

“He won’t get away with hurting you like that,” Roger snarled.

“Hurt me?!” Brian said, shocked, “If he hurt anyone, It’d be you!” 

“HE STABBED YOU, BRI. NEWSFLASH!” Roger yelled, a few heads turning in confusion. Brian flinched.

“Please don’t shout, Roger... what I meant was he hurt you emotionally. I don’t know if you’ll recover from it,” Brian explained, desperately taking Roger’s hand.

“So you’re saying I’m broken?” Roger accused.

“Rog, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Brian said quietly.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am broken, I’ll never be able to have sex with you, or anyone,” Roger ranted, staring at the floor.

“Rog, please,” Brian pleaded, a tear slipping down his cheek. Roger’s eyes widened, and he flung himself into Brian’s arms.

“I’m sorry Bri,” he whimpered, his arms tight around Brian’s middle.

“It’s fine, I forgive you,” Brian didn’t sound so sure.

“No...” Roger mumbled, so quietly Brian could barely hear him. Brian kissed the top of his head.

“Yes,” he said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter, darlings!! xxx

Roger stomped up the stairs to his bedroom.

“How was the trial?” his dad asked, stopping Roger in his tracks.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, carrying on walking. He heard his father mumble something and then sigh. Roger shrugged to himself, and shut the door. He sighed, and sat at his desk. 

“It’s the sad eyed goodbye,” he sang softly to himself.

“Yesterday’s moments I remember,” he smiled, thinking of the cuddles in Brian’s bed. He scribbled down the lyrics quickly, before he forgot them.  _It’s the bleak street, weak kneed partings I recall,_ he wrote next, smiling down at his notebook, pleased with the lyrics. He closed his notebook. Nothing was really coming to him, and he decided he’d finish it tomorrow. He sighed to himself, standing up. Life was so much easier when he was little. There was no struggle, no Paul.  _When you’re younger and life isn’t too hard at all,_ he scribbled down quickly. He frowned down at the page. They were some deep lyrics, sure, but they didn’t flow like Roger wanted them to. Maybe he needed something between- 

“The mistier mists,” he sang softly. He nodded, writing that down in the margin. 

“The hazier days?” he asked himself, writing that underneath. He watched a tear drip onto the page, smudging the ink slightly.

“The brighter sun and the easier lays,” he whispered, scrawling down the lyrics, ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“There’s all the more reason for laughing and crying,” he sobbed, finishing the first verse, rearranging some lines. He grabbed his guitar, playing a few chords. None of them seemed to fit, and Roger was slowly getting more annoyed, tears of frustration slipping down his cheeks. He stood up, grabbing his notebook and pen. He scribbled out a note, reading “gone to brian’s”, and climbed out his window.

 

Out of breath, he knocked on Brian’s front door. A woman answered it, smiling, slightly confused.

“Hello?” she said. She sounded a lot like Brian. He cleared his throat.

“Hi, I’m uh... is Brian in?” he stammered. She nodded.

“BRI!” she shouted up the stairs. He emerged out of his bedroom, eyes lighting up when he saw Roger. He ran up to him, and lifted him into his arms.

“Roger!” he exclaimed. Roger squealed as Brian lifted him up.

“Brian!” Roger yelped. Brian put him down, and turned to the lady. Her eyebrows were raised, and she looked expectant.

“Mum, this is Roger,” Brian blushed. She smiled, nodding.

“Hello, Mrs May,” Roger said, smiling awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you, Roger. Please, call me Ruth,” she said.

“Nice to meet you too,” Roger said awkwardly. Then Brian frowned down at him.

“Have you been crying?” he said, placing his hand on Roger’s cheek. Roger’s eyes widened, and he gulped.

“No?” his puffy eyes betrayed him.

“Rog... what happened?” Brian wrapped an arm around him, and Ruth disappeared into the kitchen.

“Nothing happened, I just...” Roger frowned, holding up his notebook.

“Couldn’t get the chords right,” he mumbled.

Brian took Roger into his arms. 

“It happens to the best of us, love. Do you want me to help you?” he smiled, kissing the top of Roger’s head.

“Yes please,” Roger said into Brian’s chest. 

“Come on,” Brian took Roger’s hand, and pulled him into his bedroom. 

 

His guitar was still plugged in.

“Could you sing it to me?” Brian asked, pulling his guitar into his lap. Roger nodded, swallowing thickly. He’d never sang in front of anyone before, but why not give it a go.

“It’s the sad-“ his voice cracked, and he stopped, looking down, sighing. Brian placed a hand on his back.

“Have another go,” Brian encouraged. Roger cleared his throat.

“It’s the sad eyed goodbye, yesterday’s moments I remember,” Roger sang softly.

“It’s the bleak street, weak kneed partings I recall,” he continued. Brian’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s the mistier mists, the hazier days,” he slowly became more confident, “the brighter sun and the easier lays.” He wasn’t even that bad!

“There’s all the more reason for laughing and crying. When you’re younger, and life isn’t too hard at all,” he finished. Brian hugged him.

“You’re amazing,” Brian murmured. Roger blushed.

“I’m thinking E minor... I don’t want to be too sad, and singing a tone higher could be good,” Roger tried to change the subject.

“I was thinking D,” Brian said, swatting Roger’s shoulder when he snorted at the letter.

“You know what I mean!” 

 

Brian picked up the Red Special, strumming a D major chord.

“It fits!” Roger exclaimed, then narrowed his eyes at Brian. He groaned.

“What?” Brian looked around.

“Of course you have perfect pitch,” Roger grumbled, sitting back on Brian’s bed.

“Sorry?” Brian attempted, smiling apologetically.

“Don’t be,” Roger huffed.

“What about...” Brian’s fingers danced over the fretboard as he changed the chord, and Roger blinked and shook his head to tear his eyes away.

“Sing it with me,” Brian said. And Roger did. It was beautiful, it really was. Roger seemed so proud of himself, and Brian was grinning in delight.

 

“We should start a band,” Brian laughed, laying back on his bed with Roger. Roger gasped.

“Yes! Totally,” he grinned, “but we’d need a singer and bassist.”

“What would you be? If we need a-“ Brian questioned, breaking off.

“I’m a drummer, Bri. See these hands?” Roger mimed a drumroll. Brian chuckled, kissing Roger’s knuckles. They were still a bit sore from when he punched the wall, but at least the cast was gone.

“I think Freddie sings. And John seems like a man of many talents, so maybe we could ask them?” Roger suggested. Brian nodded eagerly.

“You get your notebook, I’ll get my guitar,” he said, and they both busied themselves with getting their stuff together. Roger took Brian’s free hand, and they walked down the stairs. Ruth made sure they’d both had a drink of water before they left.

“It was lovely meeting you, Roger,” she said as she opened the door for them both.

“And you,” Roger smiled. He felt a lot more at home in Brian’s house than he did at his own home. Like yeah, his family were great, but there was just a certain vibe he got from the May household that was welcoming and cosy.

 

“They live so far awaaaaay,” Roger complained as they walked.

“It’s really not that far,” Brian chuckled, squeezing Roger’s hand. 

“Carry me,” Roger stopped, holding out his arms.

“Roger-“

“Please?” he pouted.

“Fine. But you’re carrying Red Special,” Brian grumbled. Roger jumped up and down happily, taking Brian’s beloved guitar. Brian pulled Roger’s arm around his shoulders, and pulled his legs off the ground. Once Roger was comfortably situated, Brian carried him bridal style the rest of the way. Roger kept closing his eyes and nuzzling into Brian’s chest, which didn’t help Brian calm his rapidly beating heart. His heart fluttered every time Roger moved, even if it was only to swat a fly of Brian’s shoulder. Roger occasionally pressed sweet kisses to Brian’s face and neck, making the taller boy blush profusely. Brian was relieved but also disappointed when they arrived. He never wanted to let Roger out of his arms. Ever.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait i’m tired 💫

“What’s all this then?” Freddie looked them up and down.

“I was too tired to walk,” Roger grinned.

“Too lazy, I think,” Brian grumbled. Roger kissed just underneath Brian’s jaw.

“Shush,” he mumbled.

“Well, come in, come in,” Freddie held the door open. They walked in after him, smiling at John who was playing a bass guitar on the sofa.

“You play?” Brian said excitedly.

“Darling, John doesn’t just play. He performs, every single time those beautiful, delicate fingers touch those strings! Not to mention his little dance moves he occasionally comes out with! My darling disco Deaky,” Freddie gushed, sitting down next to John on the sofa who blushed.

“I’m not that good. But yes, I play,” John chuckled. Freddie clasped his hands together.

“So why exactly did you turn up at our house at seven in the evening?” he asked, eyeing Brian’s guitar. Brian carried Roger over to the other sofa, sitting down. Roger immediately crawled into his lap, and said,

“Well, I was having trouble with my song, so I ran away to Brian. Brian joked that we should start a band, and then I remembered you sing,” he directed his little explanation at Freddie, who raised an eyebrow.

“And John, who plays bass,” Brian added quickly.

“What would you play, then?” Freddie smiled awkwardly, like he was just humouring them.

“Drums! When my hand’s better, I’ll show you how good I am!” he grinned, resting his head in Brian’s lap, stretching across the rest of the sofa.

“What happened to your hand?” John frowned, looking concerned.

“Punched a wall,” Roger giggled. Brian tutted, stroking Roger’s hair.

“Why?” Freddie spluttered, his eyes widening.

“Stupid teachers,” Roger shrugged. 

“Specifically homophonic ones,” Brian elaborated. Freddie nodded in understanding.

“Fractured a few knuckles,” Roger sighed. 

“Wow,” John said.

“If we are going to think of... being a band, shall we maybe have a little play together?” Freddie suggested.

“Well, Roger actually wrote a little song,” Brian smiled proudly at his boyfriend.

“Bri,” Roger whined.

“You did? You must play it for us, dear!” Freddie clapped excitedly. Roger gulped, sitting up. Brian took his guitar out of its case, plugging it into John’s bass amp.

“Brian!” John gasped.

“It’ll be fine,” Brian reassured. John watched him with wide eyes as he strummed a few chords.

 

Roger started off with a slightly croaky voice, but as he got more into the song, his singing improved drastically. 

“When you’re younger, and life isn’t too hard at all,” he sang the last line, looking up for Freddie’s approval. The singer nodded excitedly.

“Absolutely beautiful, Roger. And you Brian, I could never wrap my head around the guitar. Shitty thing never played the chords I wanted it to play,” he chuckled. Brian laughed, wrapping his now free arm around Roger.

“You’re amazing, love,” he whispered into Roger’s ear, as he kissed Roger’s cheek.

“So I take it you two are...” Freddie waved his arms at them in a gay kind of motion. They nodded, smiling.

“Give me all the tea,” Freddie said excitedly.

“Give you the tea?” John spluttered, “Since when has anyone ever said that!” 

“Since tea was invented, duh,” Freddie waved him off. John pulled Freddie back so they were in an awkward half cuddle.

“Dunno, he just asked me out,” Brian laughed.

“Well, not exactly,” Roger looked at him, frowning slightly.

“Well most,” Brian defended.

“Well-“ 

“Look, it is!” Brian said loudly, smiling fondly down at his boyfriend.

“Shut up,” Roger grumbled.

“Sorry,” Brian mumbled as Roger told the full story.

“I asked him to be my boyfriend and then we nearly fucked but Brian was like ‘no that’s illegal,’” Roger explained.

“I do not sound like that!” Brian gasped, hurt.

“But yeah he said yes,” Roger giggled, leaning up to kiss Brian gently.

 

Freddie brought a small, probably cheap guitar amp into the room. John frantically unplugged Brian from his amp and plugged him into the guitar one.

“That’s his Deacy Amp,” Freddie explained.

“I made her myself,” he stroked the top of the amplifier. Roger coughed, shuffling out of Brian’s lap so he could play. John plugged in his bass, and Freddie apologised.

“I’m sorry, Rog, I don’t have a drum kit,” he said, looking down.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll watch,” Roger smiled, despite being slightly let down.

“Why don’t you sing with me?” Freddie offered, to which Roger nodded. 

“I mean, what do we all know?” Brian said, tuning the g string up slightly; it had gone flat.

 

Roger didn’t think he’d ever had more fun in his life. It was nice, after the horror of the trial that morning. He enjoyed singing songs with Freddie, whilst accompanied by Brian and John. It was then that Freddie got up, and walked over to a white upright piano, unlocking it and lifting the lid. 

“He’s one I’ve been working on,” he said, sitting down on the stool. His left hand wandered down to B flat octaves, and his right, a B flat major third. 

“It’s called Bohemian Rhapsody,” he said, as he began to play.

“Mama,” he sang, “Just killed a man.” Roger looked over at John, who shrugged.

“Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead,” Freddie continued.

“Mama, life had just begun! But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.” Roger stared at Freddie with his mouth wide open. How could someone have such an amazing voice? Four octaves of perfection, was his range.

“Mama, ooh - didn’t mean to make you cry. If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on. As if nothing really matters,” Freddie sang, changing into E flat before going back to B flat. Roger could barely wrap his head around what was going on. How was Freddie so good? 

 

By the end of the song, Roger had ended up in Brian’s lap, and all three of them were clapping for Freddie.

“It would sound better if I could get the operatic section down at the beginning,” he grumbled, flopping down into the space next to John.

“Operatic section?” Brian looked confused.

“Is this the real life, is this just fantasy?” he sang, “That part, you know. It needs at least four parts.”

“I can do soprano,” Roger said. The other three laughed. Oops, he thought as he began to laugh along with them. Just play it off as a joke, Rog.

“Oh god, can you imagine?” Roger saved himself, before flexing his falsetto.

“Woah,” Freddie said. They’d stopped laughing.

“What? I was joking,” Roger chuckled awkwardly. Were they actually taking him seriously? Wow, that’s new. Shut up, don’t be mean to your friends.

“That was really good, Rog. Do it again,” Freddie grinned.

“No!” Roger whined, cuddling into Brian, “I don’t want to do it if you are just going to take the mick.”

“Roggie, darling, it was good! You sound amazing. I didn’t know anyone could sing that high!” Freddie reassured.

“I’m too tired,” Roger said, yawning and cuddling Brian’s arm to his chest. Freddie ‘aww’ed, and said,

“I guess I’ll let you off. But if you’re that tired, we should probably get you home.”

“As long as Brian carries me,” Roger mumbled into Brian.

“My poor arms,” Brian whined. Roger looked up at him with an expression Brian couldn’t resist.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around Roger’s slim waist. 

“Let’s go home, love,” Brian said as he lifted Roger off the sofa. Roger yawned again, nodding in agreement.

“Here,” Freddie placed the Red Special into Roger’s arms. John held the door open.

“Have a good night, boys,” Freddie nodded at them, as Brian carried Roger home.

 

“Stay,” Roger whined as Brian set him down outside his front door. Brian sighed, placing his hand on Roger’s cheek.

“Rog, your dad doesn’t really like me,” he explained. 

“Please...” Roger’s voice cracked, “I need you.” Brian shook his head, giving in.

“Come here, you sap,” Brian smiled, pulling Roger close to his chest.

“Are you coming in?” A gruff voice said from the door. Roger jumped back from Brian as if he was burned, and looked at his father.

“Y-yes,” he said quickly, scurrying past his dad.

“Brian, are you joining us tonight?” Michael Taylor asked, smiling slightly. It seemed he approved of Roger’s boyfriend.

“Yes, he is,” Roger said, darting out and pulling Brian inside.

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um congratulations me on 4000 hits!! more like thank you all so much, you make me so happy! i can’t believe 4000 people have taken actual time out of their day to read my shit  
> thank you again, my darlings!!

“I bet you’re glad you stayed,” Roger leapt onto his bed, removing his shirt while Brian’s back was turned. Brian cleared his throat awkwardly as he turned around.

“Y-yes, well I-“ Roger cut him off with a smirk.

“Come here, Bri,” he interrupted, laying down. Brian gulped as his eyes roamed over Roger’s toned chest. The guitarist walked over to Roger, who beckoned with a finger for Brian to sit on his hips. Brian swung a leg over Roger’s waist, feeling the younger boy’s hardness against his own.

“Roger-“

“Shh, Bri. Let it happen,” Roger grinned, his hands moving up to remove Brian’s fancy shirt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fold it,” Roger smirked, removing the garment from Brian’s shoulders. He did as promised, neatly folding up the blouse before placing it on the floor patiently. Roger ran his hands up and down Brian’s chest, making the older boy shiver and moan quietly. Roger, seeming satisfied with Brian’s reaction, reached down to Brian’s belt buckle.

“I know you promised, but you look so fucking beautiful like that, Brian. I don’t think I can hold back and longer,” Roger growled, throwing Brian’s belt into the corner of his bedroom. 

“I don’t care anymore, Roger- just give me something, please, I... I need you, fUCK-“ Brian babbled, yelling out as Roger pulled his cock out his pants and started stroking him.

“That good enough for you, Bri baby?” Roger was fully aware of the effect he was having on Brian. Well, he could feel it in his hand, as he continued to jerk Brian off.

“Rog,” Brian groaned, placing one hand on Roger’s chest to steady himself. Roger swiped his thumb over the head of Brian’s cock, and Brian moaned loudly.

“F-fUck, love you’re so...” Brian didn’t finish his sentence. 

 

Brian looked identical to whenRoger found him wanking in his own bedroom the day they met. His head tipped back, his mouth open, filthy words slipping from his mouth. Roger bit his lip. In that moment, more than anything he had wanted to drop to his knees and wrap his lips around that perfect cock, but he knew what the consequences would be. But this time, he didn’t care. He flipped them over, Brian whining when Roger’s hand moved off his cock. Roger shuffled down the bed, so his head was level with Brian’s throbbing cock.

“Rog- you really don’t have to,” Brian croaked, fully aware of his size. Roger just licked his lips, shushing the other boy as he licked a stripe up the underside of his dick.

“Roger!” Brian gasped, his hand wandering down to Roger’s head, stroking his hair softly. Roger hummed as he wrapped his lips around Brian, just as he’d fantasised doing. Brian let out a low moan, and tangled his fingers into Roger’s hair.

“A-ah, fuck-“ he gasped, as Roger took more of him in his mouth, and hollowed his cheeks. Roger bobbed his head up and down, obscene sucking, slurping noises filling the room. Brian tugged on Roger’s hair, completely by accident, yet Roger seemed to love it. He moaned around Brian, the action sending vibrations deep inside the older boy.

“Roger, I’m gonna-“ Brian warned. Roger didn’t stop. He pressed his tongue against Brian’s cock, and Brian let out all sorts of filthy moans. 

“Rog-“ he yelled, letting go. Just as a voice screamed,

“STOP!” from the doorway. 

 

Roger looked up, eyes wide as he swallowed Brian’s load, pulling Brian’s pants back up.

“You’re hurting him!” Clare stared at Roger angrily. Out of breath, Brian looked up.

“Clare... it’s- I’m fine,” he said, panting slightly.

“No! You’re not! Look at you! What were you two doing, anyway?” Clare narrowed her eyes. Roger licked his lips, looking at Brian.

“Do they not teach you this at school?” Brian spluttered.

“Not in year 7, I don’t think,” Roger replied.

“When you’re in year 9, they’ll tell you everything you need to know,” Roger smiled awkwardly at her.

“But I’m worried! I want to know now!” Clare insisted.

“Why was his... his...” she trailed off.

“Willy?” Brian suggested.

“In your mouth?!” she said, exasperated.

“Oh, sit down, Clare. Time for biology with Bri and Rog,” Roger grumbled, “Do your trousers up, Brian.” Brian just pulled them off, getting into Roger’s bed.

“Oh, so is this how it’s going to work? Fine then,” Roger huffed, getting into bed too.

“Come on, Clare, sit with us,” Roger patted the end of his bed. Clare squeezed herself in between Brian and Roger, much to their surprise, and rested her head on Roger’s shoulder.

“This bed is only made for one person, let alone three,” Brian chuckled.

“Shut up, Bri,” Roger grinned. 

“I mean, what do you want to know?” Brian said awkwardly.

“What where you doing?” Clare’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Sucking him off. Next?” Roger answered bluntly.

“But what does that  mean ?” she pushed.

“Giving him a blowjob?” Roger raised his eyebrows. Clare groaned.

“I don’t understand!” she exclaimed.

“As I don’t have a vagina, Brian and I can’t have sex like straight couples,” Roger explained. Brian smirked at him while Clare wasn’t looking.

“But that was nothing like... sex,” Clare awkwardly mouthed the last word.

“There are different types of sex, other than penetration,” Brian flushed. 

“So what was that?” Clare asked.

“Oral sex,” Brian gulped.

“So what’s normal sex?” Clare asked, curiously.

“Straight sex, would be vaginal, I think,” Roger said, looking at Brian for conformation. The taller boy nodded.

“But what’s the gay one?” Clare looked up at Roger.

“Well, if there are two boys, it would be anal. But straight couples can do anal too, as women have buttholes- can we do this another time?” Roger shuffled uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry... I thought you were hurting him,” Clare’s bottom lip trembled, and she pulled her knees to her chest. Roger wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him.

“It’s okay, Clare. We don’t mind, do we Bri?” Roger kissed the top of her head.

“Of course we don’t mind!” Brian placed his hand on her knee, resting his head on her shoulder.

“O-okay,” she said, a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

 

“Clare?” a voice whispered near Roger. He opened an eye, seeing his mother’s concerned face.

“Mum?” he said, yawning.

“Yes, it’s me,” she whispered, “I was just making sure I knew where you all were.”

“We’re here,” he said.

“I can see. Do you want me to take Clare back to her room?” she asked, stroking her daughter’s head.

“Yeah, please,” he whispered back. Winifred lifted her daughter out of Roger’s bed, and kissed Roger goodnight, leaving the room.

Roger snuggled down in his bed, then felt something warm next to him. He jumped, and then realised it was Brian.

“Bri!” he whispered, shaking the other boy awake.

“Mmf- Rog?” Brian mumbled, rolling over.

“Bri... I want to cuddle,” Roger whispered, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s hip. Brian opened an eye, slipping his arm under Roger.

“I can provide cuddles,” Brian grinned, kissing Roger’s cheek.

“I know you can, that’s why I love you,” Roger smiled, shuffling closer to Brian, pressing his face into Brian’s chest.

“Is that the only reason? You only love me because I give good hugs?” Brian said, faking hurt.

“Of course not,” Roger pulled back slightly. Placing his hand on Brian’s cheek, he said, “I love you because you’re funny. Because you’re smart. You’re generous, you’re caring. You’re loving, you’re genuine. You’re beautiful, Brian. You have probably the best dick I’ve ever seen,” Roger chuckled, stroking his thumb across Brian’s cheek. Brian blushed, almost unnoticeably in the dark. But Roger felt Brian’s face heat up under his touch.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Roger whispered, leaning in so his lips were just touching Brian’s.

“It’s true. I love you because you’re you,” Roger whispered.

“I love you too. So much,” Brian said, wrapping his arms around Roger’s waist and kissing him passionately.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

“So I said, ‘What about gay sex, miss?’ and she gave me an after school!” Clare grumbled. Roger choked on his tea.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

“I know! Fucking ridiculous!” Clare slumped down in her chair.

“God, this school sucks,” Roger huffed. Him and Brian were sixth form now, and Clare was year 9. Brian had recently moved to their school, and no matter what they said about it, he didn’t regret it. He loved being closer to his boyfriend. He felt respected as he walked around the school hand in hand with Roger, getting dirty looks from teachers and smiles from closeted students. 

“Yet we have to live another day through it,” Brian said, grasping Roger’s hand. Clare groaned. 

“I’m so fucking single!” she exclaimed.

“Clare! Language,” Michael Taylor said as he walked into the room.

“Single can be good. I’m not going to let you get hurt again. Not after what-“ Roger shuddered, “ _Thomas_ did  to you.”

“ You just have trust issues,” Clare faceplanted the table.

“It didn’t seem very hard for him to trust me,” Brian shrugged.

“Yeah but you two are literal soulmates,” Clare huffed. She stood up, walking over to the mirror.

“Brian? Can you do my hair?” she grumbled.

“Of course,” he said, picking up the hairbrush.

 

“I want you to play with my hair like that,” Roger said as they left the house.

“How about I give you two french plaits when we get home?” Brian chuckled.

“I don’t want plaits! I look enough like a girl as it is,” Roger grumbled. Brian kissed Roger’s temple.

“You’re beautiful, Roger. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Brian stroked the back of Roger’s hand with his thumb. It was moments like this that made Roger really think about how much he loved Brian. The older boy was sweet, kind and caring, and Roger truly loved him. He wanted to grow old and wrinkly with Brian, and felt himself tearing up slightly.

“I love you,” he blurted, flinging his arms around Brian. Brian kissed the top of his head.

“I love you too, Rog. Always,” Brian promised, rubbing Roger’s back. Roger had got better at holding back tears over time, and he found himself surprisingly not bawling into Brian’s chest. He broke the hug, smiling up at Brian lovingly. Brian kissed him quickly, taking Roger’s hand and continuing the walk to school. Clare was waiting for them patiently, looking a little envious.

“God, it looks like I fancy one of you,” she chuckled, looking down.

“What’s up, love?” Brian asked. He’d got used to calling Clare these little nicknames, after knowing her for so long. She seemed like a sister to him, and he cared for her dearly.

“I just want somebody to love,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes carefully not to smudge her mascara.

“How about we help you find someone?” Brian suggested, cupping her face in his hands. She nodded, smiling a little.

“Thank you, Bri,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her, and Roger quickly joined in in the hug.

“We’ll find you someone, Clare,” Roger assured her, pulling back slightly.

“You two are so nice it sickens me,” Clare laughed, checking her reflection in Roger’s sunglasses.

 

“Have I ever told you how happy I am that Paul was locked up?” Brian said as he sat down next to Roger in maths.

“Yes, many times,” Roger grinned at his boyfriend.

“Well I’m very happy. Even if I think that fifty-one years was a bit short, I’m glad he’s in prison,” Brian said, kissing Roger’s knuckles.

“Hmm— what the fuck is she doing here?” Roger laughed, standing up. Brian looked up at him, slightly alarmed.

“Who?” he asked, standing up too.

“That fucking geography teacher,” Roger shook his head in disbelief, “Hey, Miss!” he called.

“Y-yes?” she stammered in reply.

“Is this wrong and unnatural enough for you?” he said loudly, grabbing Brian’s collar and kissing him roughly. The class broke out into applause, and Brian brought a hand up to rest upon Roger’s cheek.

“I love you, Rog. I’m so proud of you,” he whispered as he pulled away, resting his forehead on Roger’s.

“I love you too,” Roger smiled. Then he turned to the teacher.

“Sit down, boys,” she grumbled, fixing them with a glare.

“Be more accepting, Miss,” Roger countered. 

“I said sit down, Taylor!” she raised her voice slightly. 

“I thought you got fired?” Roger said, leaning against the wall.

“Thought you got raped and your boyfriend stabbed,” she yelled, “Now sit down!” Roger did so.

“You act all tough now, but I bet you weren’t when another  man  fucking you!” she continued. Roger tensed.

“Did you not tell him you were male? I mean, you look like a girl from behind,” she sneered.

“That’s enough,” Brian said loudly.

“Where was your guardian angel then, Roggie?” she smirked.

“Shut up,” Roger said, his hands clenching into fists.

“Probably sat at home, unaware that the ‘love of his life’ was being touched by another man,” she teased. The whole class was wide eyed.

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Roger yelled, his breathing increasing rapidly.

“Oh poor Roger Taylor, having a panic attack now are we?” she laughed. Roger’s hands flew up to his throat, clawing and scratching at the pale skin.

“Roger,” Brian said, kneeling in front of Roger.

“Bri... it hurts,” Roger wept, tugging on his hair.

“Rog, you’re safe. Come here,” Brian said, scooping Roger up into his arms. Roger thrashed around, hitting Brian in the jaw. Brian clenched his jaw, rubbing Roger’s back.

“It’s me, Rog,” he whispered. 

“It’s Paul- GET OFF ME, YOU MONSTER!” Roger screamed, scratching at Brian’s face. Brian inhaled sharply, wincing at the pain. 

“Roger, it’s Brian,” Brian said calmly, taking Roger’s hand.

“Bri..?” Roger whispered.

“Yes, love. It’s me,” Brian smiled, kissing Roger’s forehead.

“I love you,” Roger cried, clinging onto Brian. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here,” Brian said, lifting Roger up and walking over to the door.

“Fuck you,” he spat at the teacher. He didn’t care to learn her name.

 

He carried Roger until he found a bench. 

“Our s-stuff is still inside,” Roger trembled in Brian’s arms.

“It’s alright, we’ll get it when you’ve calmed down,” Brian murmured, pulling Roger into his lap as he sat down.

“I hate her so much,” Roger mumbled, resting his head on Brian’s chest.

“I hate her too, love,” Brian agreed, rubbing Roger’s back.

“Fucking homophobes,” Roger growled, pressing a sweet kiss to Brian’s jaw.

“Tell her,” Brian said suddenly.

“Tell her what?” Roger said, confused.

“Exactly what you think,” Brian answered.

“You know I’m too much of a wimp to do that,” Roger mumbled.

“Surprise me,” Brian whispered into Roger’s ear. Roger bit his lip.

“Maybe I will,” Roger smirked, moving closer and closer to Brian’s lips. Suddenly he screamed in Brian’s face, making Brian scream as well.

“Told you I’d surprise you,” Roger cackled. 

“You fucking dick,” Brian breathed, beginning to tickle Roger mercilessly.

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *i am in no way trying to harm anyone or their religious beliefs*  
> you do what you want, as long as it’s not hurting anyone 😊

“Stop!” Roger squealed, slapping Brian’s chest lightly.

“Okay, okay,” Brian sighed in defeat, pulling his hands away from Roger. Roger huffed.

“What?” Brian chuckled. Roger held his arms out.

“Cuddle me,” he said. Brian did gladly.

“I mean it, Rog. Go and give her a piece of your mind,” the taller said, slipping his fingers under Roger’s shirt to gently stroke his soft stomach. Roger hummed in content, thinking for a moment.

“I would, but I don’t want to get up,” Roger responded, closing his eyes. 

“Me neither,” Brian agreed, chuckling softly, “I’ll carry you?” he offered. Roger’s eyes lit up.

“Okay, done,” he held his hand out for a handshake. Brian took his hand and kissed his knuckles, lifting Roger up.

“You’re very strong,” Roger remarked, trailing his fingers over Brian’s biceps.

“Surprising, isn’t it? I look like a twig,” Brian laughed. Roger never would have thought that Brian was the self conscious type. But after knowing Brian for a good two years, he realised that the other boy was not really comfortable in his own skin. He was aware Brian was proud of his legs, and quite rightly, they were delicious - but Brian seemed to hate his upper body. Roger didn’t quite know why, but he supported Brian with ever-comforting words, and many kisses. 

“You look beautiful. You’re lean, slender. Incredibly sexy,” Roger assured.

“I look like a girl,” Brian deadpanned.

“You look like a girl?  You  look like a girl?!” Roger exclaimed, “Do you know how many times I’ve been mistaken for a-“ Roger stopped, as they approached the classroom.

“Do it,” Brian urged, opening the door.

 

“I thought you were a geography teacher, anyway?” Roger said, jumping out of Brian’s arms at the teacher. She stumbled backwards, into her spinny chair. He pushed the chair all the way to the back of the classroom, so she was his pupil and he was the teacher.

“I- I was, they- I’m covering your lesson,” she stammered. 

“So a few of you are looking at me with confused faces. Mrs  O’Malley , here, was my Geography teacher in year 10,” Roger explained, rifling through some papers on her desk.

“She said some  horrible  things to me,” Roger stuck out his bottom lip, “For example, I was ‘wrong’ and being gay was ‘unnatural’.”

“Well I’ll have you know,  Miss, that I couldn’t hold a pen for a good few weeks after that! There’s actually still a dent in that wall,” he chuckled, writing the words ‘wrong’ and ‘unnatural’ on the board.

“Although, you did help to start my band,” Roger mused, drawing a pair of quavers (half-notes) on the board as well.

“They look like balls,” Some kid in the back remarked.

“Wha-  _you_ look like balls,” Roger countered, looking back at his drawing. 

“Any questions so far?” he leaned on the desk, sticking his ass out. One kid put his hand up.

“Why is being gay such a bad thing?” he said quietly.

“Mostly religious reasons. I don’t care what people believe, but it pisses me off when this God is meant to be all-loving, yet people still discriminate. I know this is maths, but here’s a little history lesson for you,” Roger started, drawing a book on the board.

“The bible says ‘man should not sleep with man’, or some bullshit,” he said, drawing a cross on the book.

“This is a book that has been translated from many ancient languages. Fact for you: the Virgin Mary is not actually a virgin. The Hebrew translation is actually ‘young, unmarried woman’. Jesus spoke Aramaic, which along with Hebrew is part of the Northwest Semitic group. The word virgin - describing Mary, of course - is actually translated from a Greek word. Since when did Greece have anything to do with Jesus? He was born in Jerusalem, in the middle east, which is nowhere near Greece. Basically what I’m saying, is that we have no idea what the Bible really says, because it has been translated from a dead language,” Roger took a deep breath. Brian looked impressed.

“Then how do you explain how the world was created?” the teacher challenged, pursing her lips. Roger nodded at Brian, who stood up. He cleared his throat.

“I’m studying astrophysics, I can do this one. Earth and the other planets were made from the leftover gas from the nebula that made the Sun,” he explained, “The solar system was a cloud of dust and gas called a solar nebula. Gravity collapsed the material in on itself as it began to spin, forming the sun in the center of the nebula. With the rise of the sun, the remaining material began to clump up. Small particles drew together, bound by the force of gravity, into larger particles. The solar wind swept away lighter elements, such as hydrogen and helium, from the closer regions, leaving only heavy rocky materials to create smallerterrestrial worlds like Earth. But farther away, the solar winds had less impact on lighter elements, allowing them to coalesce into gas giants. In this way, asteroids, comets, planets, and moons were created.” Brian sat down. Mrs O’Malley looked absolutely mind blown.

“That’s just a theory, though. How was the Sun made, then?” she was fighting a losing battle, and seemed to be aware of it.

“Isn’t religion just a theory too?” Roger countered, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t like religion,” he laughed, “It tends to fuck people up.” Brian glared warningly at

him, before standing back up again and saying,

“Many scientists think the sun and the rest of the solar system formed from a solar nebula. As the nebula collapsed because of its gravity as I said earlier, it spun faster and flattened into a disk. Most of the material was pulled toward the center to form the sun.”

“But I thought the nebula whatsit was what created the planets,” she said, confused.

“Well no, most of it went to the creation of the Sun. The rest went to the planets,” he smiled tensely. The door opened, and in walked the headteacher with a bunch of year sixes.

“Hello, Miss!” Mrs Thornhill said, smiling, 

“We’re just looking round each class, to show these rising year sevens and their parents what this school is really like.” Mrs O’Malley chuckled, falsely.

“We were doing maths, but got rather sidetracked. I’m actually covering their lesson, so I doubt this happens with Miss Nichols,” she smiled.

“What are you discussing?” Thornhill looked at Roger.

“We had a debate about religion, and now we’re talking about how the world was created. Brian, my boyfriend-“ Roger blew a kiss at Brian, who chuckled, blushing.

“-is taking astrophysics, so informed us on the scientific aspect,” Roger smiled at the headteacher. She grinned back at him, then turned to the parents.

“We encourage students to be themselves, at Truro School, and accepting them for who they are is a big part of our ethos!” Thornhill exclaimed. A few parents nodded approvingly.

 

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Brian whispered into Roger’s ear as the exited the classroom.

“You told her exactly what was what, and I’m so inspired, and proud,” Brian paused, taking Roger’s face in his hands.

“Thank you,” Roger smiled. It wasn’t often that he felt proud of himself.

“My clever, beautiful boy,” Brian murmured into Roger’s ear as he kissed just underneath Brian’s jaw.

“I’m so glad you exist,” Roger wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist.

“And I’m so glad  you exist,” Brian grinned, watching Mrs O’Malley pull a disgusted face at them.


	27. Chapter 27

“Paul Prenter has requested to see you, Mr Taylor,” the person on the other end of the phone said.

“Tell him I never want to see him again,” Roger said, trying to be strong. 

“Just, think about it, okay? He seems incredibly low,” the person said.

“He’s in prison. He’s not supposed to be having the time of his life,” Roger said, his voice coming out shaky. Brian narrowed his eyes at him from the other end of the sofa.

“Sadder than normal?” the person (he assumed was a prison guard) tried again.

“I’ll speak to him,” Roger sighed.

“Thank you, Roger. Shall I book you down forfour o’clock tomorrow?” the guard said. Roger could hear his smile.

“Yes, okay,” Roger confirmed, “Can I bring Brian with me?”

“This is the boy Prenter stabbed, correct?” he said. Roger heard some papers shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, that’s him. My boyfriend,” Roger clarified.

“I’m not sure it would be the best idea,” the guard answered, rustling the papers again.

“If Paul wants to see me, he’s going to have to let Brian come along too,” Roger frowned. 

“I’ll see you two tomorrow, then. Have a good evening,” he said.

“And you,” Roger said, hanging up.

“Paul wants to see you?” Brian spat, digging his nails into his thighs.

“Bri, I know how you feel about him, I just... I don’t know, I’m curious,” Roger took Brian’s hand, kissing his knuckles. Brian hummed, smiling contently.

“I’m coming with you, I assume?” Brian stroked the back of Roger’s hand.

“Of course, love,” Roger spread himself over Brian’s lap, closing his eyes once he was comfortable.

“Four o’clock tomorrow,” Roger said. He slowly drifted off to sleep with Brian tracing intricate patterns on his hips.

 

Roger squeezed Brian’s hand tight as he walked into the prison.

“I’m here to visit Paul Prenter,” Roger gritted his teeth, attempting to smile at the receptionist.

“Just that way, sir,” she pointed to a hallway. Brian was the one who started walking first. They walked past a row of cells, where an unfamiliar voice said,

“Roger?” Roger turned to look at the man. He’d never seen this man in his life, yet he smiled politely.

“If he touches you, let me know. Okay?” he smiled warmly. It filled Roger with a bit of confidence. He nodded.

“Promise me you’ll do that,” the man wrapped a hand around one of the cell bars.

“I promise,” Roger said.

“Good.” the man nodded. Roger spotted Paul’s cell at the end of the corridor.

“Paul,” Roger said once they reached his cell.

“Roger!” Paul burst into tears. Brian’s grip around Roger’s waist tightened protectively, and the guitarist narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, hello,” Roger said. He could tell Brian was extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

“I’ve missed you so much! I love you, my dearest Roger!” Paul sobbed, gripping onto the bars of his cell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, I guess,” Roger stepped back.

“Please, love... let me see you,” Paul beckoned him forward. Roger took a few shaky steps forward, Brian releasing him from his tight grip.

“I-I’m here,” Roger looked down. Paul hungrily took in the sight of the drummer, practically undressing him with his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful- have you been eating?” Paul frowned.

“Of course I have,” Roger chuckled, leaning back against Brian’s chest.

“Come closer, please,” Paul said, his eyes full of sadness and disappointment. Roger found himself walking without even thinking about it. Paul reached out, pulling up his shirt and stroking his stomach.

“I told you not to eat,” he growled, his touch becoming rough. He jabbed a finger into Roger’s tummy, hissing into his face.

“You know what happens when you eat? BRING IT BACK UP, SLUT!” 

Roger’s legs buckled, and Brian caught him. The guitarist’s expression turned murderous, and he looked into Paul’s eyes as Roger started to cry.

“YOU FUCKING CUNT!” Brian yelled, making Paul flinch. 

“HOW THE HELL COULD YOU EVEN _THINK_ THAT I WOULD LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THAT!” he shouted at the rapist, holding Roger close.

”Don’t you _ever_ come near Roger ever again,” Brian spat, kicking Paul’s cell door as he stormed away, making the door rattle. Paul fell silent, as Brian lifted Roger up into his arms as the smaller boy cried.

 

He walked over to the man who spoke to them earlier, with Roger sobbing into his shoulder.

“He touched my boy,” Brian seethed, his grip tightening on Roger.

“Where?” the man growled, clenching his hands into fists.

“His stomach. He told him to stop eating and— make himself throw up, as you probably heard,” Brian hissed, his voice completely different from the way he was stroking Roger’s side.

“I’ll get him for you. Rapists don’t deserve a second chance. My sister was raped, that’s how I ended up in here. I killed the man,” the man said, “Name’s Jim Hutton.”

“Thanks, Jim. Be careful,” Brian nodded. He seemed to have a lot of respect for Jim. Jim held his hand out through the bars, and Brian gently set Roger down to shake his hand. 

“Thank you...” Jim trailed off.

“Brian, Brian May,” Brian smiled though his anger.

“Thank you Brian. Take care, now,” Jim smiled. Roger never would have guessed he was a murderer. Brian replied with a polite, “and you,” before lifting Roger back up and out of the prison.

 

Harold’s expression turned grave as they (Brian) walked out of the prison. He immediately got out of the car, walking over the boys.

“I’m- f-fat, need to be... s-sick,” Roger hiccuped, attempting to shove his fingers down his throat. Brian slapped his hand away, kissing him to shut him up.

“You are not fat. I don’t want to hear another word about it,” Brian said firmly, sitting Roger down in the backseat of the car.

“I-I wasn’t meant to eat...” Roger babbled, reaching out for Brian.

“Yes you were, Rog,” Brian took Roger’s hands, kneeling in front of him.

“‘M wasn’t,” Roger mumbled, looking down. Brian closed the car door, making sure Roger was inside and he wasn’t going to trap any body parts in the door. He turned to his father.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Brian sighed, tears of anger and desperation filling his eyes.

“He’s having a sort of flashback. Just support him, comfort him. Rub his back and whisper sweet words, that kind of thing. Make sure he knows you’re not Paul,” Harold advised, wrapping his arms around his son. Brian hugged back, the tears escaping and trickling down his cheeks.

“Thank you, Dad,” he smiled, pulling away and getting into the car, next to Roger.

“How are you feeling, love?” Brian put Roger’s seatbelt on for him, then strapping himself in too. 

“Numb,” Roger looked down. Brian took his hand, keeping hold when Roger flinched.

“It’s only me,” he smiled, looking into Roger’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Roger asked hopefully. 

“Of course, my love,” Brian said, cupping Roger’s face tenderly, pressing his lips lightly against Roger’s.

“Love you, Brimi,” he mumbled against Brian’s lips.

“Love you too, Roggie. Always, through everything,” Brian whispered, hugging the younger boy tightly.

 

“Please... stay with me tonight,” Roger pleaded once they pulled up at his house.

“Roger, I-“ Brian protested. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay the night, he just felt like he had been intruding into Roger’s family a bit.

“Please, Bri... I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret. Sometimes I keep drifting back to thinking that I need to stop eating, and... _things_ ,” he took Brian’s hand.

“It’s fine by me,” Harold granted his permission, and Brian gave in.

“Okay, love. I’ll stay the night,” Brian smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. 

“Thank you, Brian. Thank you doc,” he nodded at his old therapist. Roger had dropped out of therapy a year after Paul was locked up. They had decided and confirmed that the root of the problem was in fact Paul, and with Paul no longer around, Roger would get better. As the saying goes, you cannot heal in the same environment in  which you got sick. 

“It’s my pleasure, Roger. It’s so good to see you doing better, even after the little incident today.” Roger smiled, waving goodbye as he got out of the car. Brian took his hand as Roger knocked on the door. 

 

Clare answered it, a concerned look on her face.

“Clare? Are you alright?” Roger fretted immediately, placing his hand on her forehead, as if checking her temperature. She slapped his hand away, rolling her eyes.

“Of course _I'm_ okay, I’m worried about you, dimwit!” she exclaimed, slapping him upside

the head.

“Yes, I’m okay... sort of,” Roger winced. Brian kissed his temple.

“Paul was very happy to see Roger. Roger wasn’t so happy to see Paul,” Brian summarised, stroking his thumb over the back of Roger’s hand.

“Did he hurt you? I swear to god if he hurt you...” Clare glared at nothing in particular, her expression resembling Brian’s earlier that day.

“He didn’t hurt me, Clare. Not really,” Roger shuffled awkwardly.

“Does it hurt?” Brian’s eyes widened in concern, placing his hand on Roger’s tummy.

Roger shrugged.

“A little bit,” he admitted, looking down in shame. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Roger. You had no idea what he was going to do. At least Jim will do something,” Brian said, ever the optimist.

“Jim?” Clare inquired, narrowing her eyes.

“He killed his sister’s rapist. He has a thing about rapists now. He told us on the way in that if Paul laid a finger on Roger, he’d be sorry,” Brian elaborated, looking down at his boyfriend lovingly.

“Good,” Clare growled.

“Never thought you’d be so protective, Clare,” Roger smiled, patting her cheek. She squirmed away from him.

“Roger germs,” she grumbled, stomping up the stairs to her room.

“Love you, Rog. Bri,” she yelled down the stairs.

“Love you too, Clare,” they shouted back in unison, smiling at each other once she was gone.

 

Roger guided Brian over to the sofa. Brian knelt down in front of Roger, pulling his top up slightly. There was a slight bruise and red mark where Paul had jabbed his finger into Roger’s tummy. Brian kissed the bruise gently, and Roger’s breath hitched. Brian looked up into Roger’s wide eyes, and they heard a gasp from the doorway.

”Not _here_ , boys!” Winifred hissed, her eyes widening.

”It’s not what it looks like,” Brian winced, realising how cheesy the line sounded.

”Really? That’s what they all say,” she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

”I wouldn’t,” Brian stood up, “Not after today.” He wrapped his arm protectively around Roger’s waist, pulling the smaller boy’s top back down. Winifred shook her head, chuckling softly.

”I know, Bri,” she smiled, “I know you wouldn’t do it in the living room.”

Brian blushed, looking down. Roger giggled, kissing Brian’s cheek. Maybe things were going to be okay.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on holiday
> 
> fact for you, to get to truro (where rogah taylah grew up) you have to go on the (road) a39
> 
> 39 is a queen song if you weren’t aware x

“Mmf- Bri! D-don’t stop, f-fuck—“ Roger moaned as Brian hollowed his cheeks. Brian took Roger’s hand, and pressed his tongue against the underside of Roger’s cock and bobbing his head impossibly faster.

“Bri- gonna c-“ he broke off with a loud moan, cumming down Brian’s throat and squeezing the older boy’s hand hard. The guitarist coughed slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand.

“You’re so good at that,” Roger said breathlessly, reaching out for Brian.

“Thank you,” Brian said hoarsely, smiling. 

“Can you turn over for me?” Roger smiled, cupping Brian’s face.

“Sure?” Brian complied, turning over so he was lying face down on the bed. Roger sat on his hips, laying his hands flat on Brian’s back.

“Wh-what are you doing, Rog?” Brian looked over his shoulder, alarmed.

“Shh, Bri baby,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s messy curls. Brian pressed his face into the pillows, tensing up a bit. Roger started to massage Brian’s back, pressing his hands into the taller boy’s soft skin.

“Oh, Rog...” Brian sighed happily, burying his face into the pillows. 

 

Once Roger had worked all the knots out of Brian’s back, he noticed they had an audience. The older boy would occasionally let out small moans of content, which shocked Clare.

“What are you doing?” she spoke up, making Roger yelp and dive under the covers to cover himself.

“Fucking knock!” Roger grumbled, sitting up so the covers were over his legs, covering his... bits.

“The door was half open! I could hear you giving each other blowies and I came to tell you to shut up, then I saw this,” she shrugged.

“I’m giving him a back massage, calm down woman,” Roger said, slightly embarrassed.

“I want one!” Clare jumped onto Roger’s bed face down. 

“Well you’d have to take your top off and it would be like weird...” Roger grimaced. Clare pulled her t-shirt off.

“Clare! What if Mum sees? She’ll get totally the wrong idea!” Roger hissed, throwing her shirt back in her face.

“I don’t care! You never have any time for me anymore, Roger! It’s always Brian this, Brian that! All I want is some time with... all I want is some time with my big brother,” she hugged her knees to her chest. Brian looked down. Roger shuffled over to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“How about I give you a massage, braid your hair and we’ll go shopping tomorrow?” Roger offered.

“Thank you Roggie,” she smiled, returning the hug.

“Okay, well you’re going to have to take your bra off and let me get some pants on,” Roger chuckled, pulling his boxers back on. Clare lay face down on his bed, unclasping her bra awkwardly so it was still covering her breasts. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Brian asked, picking at his nails.

“No!” Clare said, “And don’t do that, it’ll make your fingers hurt. Here, I’ll do your nails when Roger’s done back there,” she chuckled, taking his hands. He smiled.

“Okay... thank you, Clare,” he said, making eye contact with Roger over her head.

 

“Okay, come here Brian,” she pulled her shirt back on, leading him to her room. 

“Wait wait, I haven’t got any clothes on,” he fretted, pulling on some boxers and a shirt that was probably Roger’s. Clare dragged him through the hallway, Roger trailing behind.

“Which colour would you like?” she asked Brian, showing him her nail polish collection.

“Uhh... I’m not sure, how about you pick?” he smiled awkwardly.

“Well I’m going to choose white for you, and quit talking to me like I’m seven,” she said, picking out a bottle of white nail varnish.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. 

“Nonsense,” she said, hugging him quickly. She took his hand, sitting down on her bed. He sat opposite her, holding out his other hand. She took an orange stick and started pushing back his cuticles, ignoring his noises of pain.

“Beauty is pain, Brimi,” Roger chuckled, sitting behind his boyfriend.

“I suppose,” Brian agreed. Roger snaked his arms around Brian’s waist, resting his chin on Brian shoulder. He watched as Clare filed and shaped the older boy’s nails. Her brows knitted together as she concentrated, making sure she didn’t go out of the lines with the white polish. Once his nails were drying, she sat back on her bed.

“So I want to go into...” she started talking about which shops she wanted to go into when her and Roger went shopping. Brian zoned out, blowing his nails dry. He was focussing more on Roger stroking his stomach lightly than what Clare was saying. He felt bad, he really did. He had been spending so much more time with Roger than Roger had been spending with his family. He was quite jealous, actually. He didn’t have a sibling he could go into town with, give advice and help with exams. He would never know what it was like to have a little brother or sister, to teach the ways of how to persuade Mum to buy you those shoes. But what was Clare to him? She was like a little sister, even if they weren’t blood related. Roger’s family seemed like his own family now, he’d been going out with the Taylors’ eldest son for so long. Except Clare hated him. He could tell she despised him with every ounce of her being, because he stole her brother. He flinched hard.

“Woah, Bri! Calm down, I’m just putting the top coat on,” she raised her eyebrows, taking his hand again.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“Why?” she asked, not looking up.

“For stealing Roger,” Brian mumbled. 

“Whatever,” she shrugged. Oh God, she despised him .

“No. No!” he took a deep breath. Maybe it was the nail polish fumes.

“It’s not fair on you,” he said to Clare. Roger squeezed his middle, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“What about me? I like when you steal me,” he giggled, smiling at Clare. She didn’t smile back.

“Okay, maybe I have been spending too much time with you and not with my family. But I love you, Bri!” Roger sighed, looking into his lap. Well, looking into Brian’s lap.

“I love you too, of course I do, but it’s not fair on Clare. She loves you too, for much longer than I have.”

“Have either of you even thought about what I might want to say about this?” Clare snapped, placing the nail polish bottle back on her windowsill.

“I’m sorry-“ Brian was cut off.

“STOP BEING FUCKING SORRY! IN FACT, YOU CAN GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Clare yelled. Brian didn’t have to be told twice. He ran out of her room, and back into Roger’s. He grabbed his trousers, tugging them on as he started to cry. Fucking wimp.

 

He didn’t think he’d ever ran for so long in his life. He ran all the way home, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he went. He rang the doorbell angrily, not even looking at his mother as she smiled at him.

“You’re back early. Did you have a good day?” she placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off, pushing past.

“Fucking fantastic,” he spat, immediately feeling guilty. But he was too proud to turn back and apologise, so he stormed up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door as loud as he could. He threw himself onto his bed, angrily wiping tears away. He’d never sworn at his mother before, and it killed him to do so. He just felt so  angry , and there was nothing he could do about any of it. He loved his boyfriend, so of course he was spending time with him! Nothing made sense, and he threw his fist at the wall angrily. 

 

Shopping was not fun. 

“Stop dawdling, Roger!” Clare snapped, grabbing Roger’s hand and dragging him into some makeup shop. Anita smiled sadly at him from the coffee shop window, and he shrugged in response, letting Clare do what she was wanted. He felt terrible. He hadn’t seen Brian in a whole day, and he missed him so much. Brian hadn’t called, either, like he did every night.

“Brimi,” he found himself whimpering under his breath.

“Will you shut up about your stupid boyfriend?” Clare growled, pulling him over to a shelf of eyeshadows.

“He’s in love, my dear,” an elderly woman walked past, “You will be too, soon enough.” She smiled, patting Roger’s shoulder as she walked away from them.

“Sorry Clare,” he mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Whatever. But if you mention that idiot’s name one more time, we’re going home!” she sneered, swatching a purple eyeshadowon her wrist.

“That’s no way to talk to your brother!” another lady said, glaring at Clare. Roger looked at her with wide eyes, shaking his head. Clare spun round, glaring daggers at the woman.

“This is none of your business,” she hissed, turning back fiercely. Roger smiled apologetically at the lady, who smiled sadly back.

“Do you think I would look good with this?” Clare asked, holding up an eyeshadow palette.

“Yeah,” Roger had no idea what he was saying. He looked out the window, eyes lighting up when he a curly haired boy walking into the shop, holding hands with a girl. Oh. It wasn’t Brian. The guy just gave him a weird look, wrapping his arm protectively around his girlfriend.

 

The whole shopping trip, Roger kept thinking he was seeing Brian. Why were there so many more curly-haired people out today of all days? Clare sat down in a seat by the window. They were in Anita’s mum’s coffee shop, and just happened to be sitting in the seats Brian and Roger had sat in on their first date. Roger felt himself immediately burst into tears, and Anita came running over.

“Rog, Rog come here,” she cooed, taking him into her arms and rocking him back and forth.

“I-I miss h-him so f-fucking much,” Roger wailed, clinging onto her.

“It’s going to be okay, yeah? We’ll sort this out, my love,” she rubbed his back, smiling tensely at Clare. Clare looked mortified. 

“I need the loo,” she ran into the nearest toilet. Anita let Roger out of her arms when he’d stopped crying so much.

“What happened?” Anita asked, taking Roger’s hand.

“I-I accidentally said his n-name, and Clare got really angry. She had a go at me for spending so much time with B-Brimi, instead of her,” Roger hugged his knees to his chest, curling up in the small armchair.

“First of all, cute nickname. Second - has this happened before?” Anita asked. She looked like she suspected something.

“No, n-never. And it’s weird, B-Brian and I have been g-going out f-for t-two y-years,” Roger sniffed, wiping his eyes.

“Okay. Right, I think I know what’s happening. Clare’s what, 13? 14?” Anita smiled. Roger nodded.

“First period maybe?” Anita suggested, standing up.

“Maybe... where are you going?” Roger asked as Anita walked over to the toilet door.

“Seeing if she’s alright,” Anita rolled her eyes, knocking on the door.

“N-no,” a voice came from inside.

“Clare?” Anita called.

“Y-yes?” came the reply.

“Are you alright?” Anita said, her voice comforting and warm.

“No...” after that came a whisper, that Anita couldn’t quite decipher.

“What was that last part?” she asked.

“There’s blood in my pants,” Clare said quietly. Oh. That explains it.

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took ages :/

Brian angrily strummed his guitar, ignoring the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He hadn’t come out of his since yesterday. He was hungry and furious. It seemed only widdly guitar solos would lessen his anger. Thankfully he had a bottle of water in his bedroom, so he wouldn’t die of dehydration. His fingers danced over the frets, pushing down on the strings slightly harder than necessary in his fury. He let out a sob when all he did was make the note go sharp with how hard he was pressing down on the string. He was about to throw his guitar across the room, when his cat came and nestled down next to him.

“D-didn’t see you there,” he sniffed, petting Squeaky’s head. Squeaky must’ve come in through the window. Clever thing. Squeaky purred in response, closing his eyes. Animals always made him happy and calm. That wasn’t really the case today, he was still furious, but Squeaky did help to take the edge off his anger. Brian kissed the top of his cat’s head, bursting into tears. He wished it was Roger. He needed him. He couldn’t survive without Roger, his boyfriend; his other half; his soulmate. He stood up, resting his guitar against his desk, and running downstairs.

“I-I’m going out,” he sobbed, looking over at his dad who looked extremely concerned.

“Bri, wait,” he said sternly, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. Brian turned around, looking up at his father. He felt deeply humiliated as Harold wrapped him in a hug. He tensed.

“How’s Roger?” his dad asked quietly. Brian shrugged.

“Probably fine. He didn’t seem to care much when I was being shouted at,” Brian wept, pulling away from the hug. Harold smiled sadly.

“Be back by 7, okay?” Harold wiped his son’s tears away, but only more came.

“It’s- it’s six already though,” Brian stammered, sniffling.

“7am, I meant. I’ll leave your bedroom window open, you two can climb through in the morning and pretend you were there the whole night,” Harold whispered. Brian nodded.

“Have fun,” Harold patted Brian’s shoulder firmly. Brian spotted his mother’s disappointed face, but turned around and left the house anyway.

 

He’d been crying for a while now. He self consciously pulled his shirt down, as it had ridden up, exposing his stomach. He knew it was Roger’s, but couldn’t bring himself to care or change it. It felt like he was bringing a piece of Roger with him, wherever he went. He wrapped his arms around himself as he stood outside “the Deacury household,” as Freddie called it. A shirtless John opened the door, and immediately invited Brian in. An equally shirtless Freddie sat up quickly.

“I-I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t mean to intrude,” Brian hiccuped, wiping his eyes.

“Shh, darling. What happened?” Freddie placed a hand on Brian’s back, guiding him over to the couch. 

“H-he just s-stood there,” Brian cried, “Wh-while she...” he broke down into a fit of sobs. Did Roger really not care about him at all?

“Who’s he?” Freddie rubbed Brian’s back.

“Roger!” Brian wept bitterly.

“The lovely Roger... and who’s  she ?” Freddie pulled Brian close.

“C-Clare... she shouted at me, told me to get out her room, s-so I did, and- Rog did nothing,” Brian sobbed.

“Why did she shout at you, love?” Freddie took a cup of coffee from John’s hands, handing it to Brian. Brian gratefully took a sip, sniffling.

“Well I was s-sucking-“ Brian coughed, “Roger gave me a b-back massage, and C-Clare came in to tell us to sh-shut up because R-Roger was m-moaning t-too loudly. She wanted a massage too, because R-Roger had been spending t-too much t-time with me, a-and not with h-h-her,” he explained shakily, “I apologised, and she p-painted my nails. I just apologised again, and she sort of s-snapped. She t-told me to “stop being fucking sorry,” and then screamed at me to get out. And Roger ju-just stood there,” Brian sniffed.

“What a dick. I never liked Roger,” Freddie’s persona changed immediately, to one of anger.

“He’s not a dick, Freddie,” Brian gladly accepted the tissue John held out to him, wiping his nose.

“I know, dear. I’m just trying to make you feel better,” the singer kissed Brian’s temple, and his boyfriend sat down on the other side of Brian.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t do anything!” Brian cried, sobbing into Freddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional,” Brian wept, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, Brian. Let it out,” John said calmly. Something about the bassist’s voice seemed to calm Brian. He closed his eyes, blocking out reality for a moment and just imagining himself in his happy place. His happy place was recording studio, where his fingers never got tired and his guitar never went out of tune. He found himself playing the intro to Drowse, and singing along quietly. And then there was Roger, wrapping his arms around him from behind, an apology on his lips. When Brian came back to reality, Freddie and John were smiling up at him. He had stopped crying, and seemed to have a smile on his own face, too.

“I love him so much,” a tear escaped, but Brian wiped it away.

“Oh, darling I know you do,” Freddie squeezed his hand, standing up.

“Why don’t I get the scrabble? Take your mind off things?” the older man said, walking over to a cupboard.

 

They were about halfway through their second round of scrabble, when the doorbell rang. Freddie raised an eyebrow, standing up and walking over to the door, unlocking and opening it.

“F-Freddie,” a crying Roger whispered brokenly, “I f-fucked up... h-he hates me...”

Brian appeared in the doorway.

“Who hates you, now? I’ll have a stern word with them,” the taller boy smiled, his tear-stained face matching Roger’s.

“Brimi,” he sniffed, reaching out for Brian.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here,” Brian pulled Roger into his arms, holding him close.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” Roger repeated like a mantra, mumbling into Brian’s chest.

“I love you too. So, so much,” Brian started to cry too. Roger belonged in his arms. There was no doubt about it.

“Clare dragged me shopping,” Roger said, pulling away from the hug to cup Brian’s face lovingly.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything. It was selfish, and I’m a coward. I was just scared of what she’d say to me,” Roger apologised, touching their lips together.

“Spare room is that way,” John coughed behind them, breaking them out of their little bubble. 

“Sorry,” Roger said, pulling away from Brian, “I sort of forgot you were in here,” he admitted, blushing. Brian’s face was bright red, and Freddie was cackling on the sofa next to John. Roger shrugged, taking Brian’s hand and pulling him to the spare room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Brian took Roger’s other hand as they sat on the bed. 

“I was so worried,” Roger mumbled, shuffling up to Brian and snuggling into his side.

“I haven’t actually, um, eaten since yesterday,” Brian admitted shamefully.

“WHAT?!” Roger exclaimed, running out of the room and returning quickly with an apple.

“Eat, or I’ll never talk to you again,” Roger glared, stroking Brian’s knee fondly. Brian took a bite out of the apple, then chuckled.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?” Roger’s eyes widened.

“How did you know?” he laughed, shuffling over to lay on the bed with his head actually on the pillows. Brian joined him, except he was sitting up. He didn’t particularly want to choke on his apple.

 

“How’s Clare?” Brian mumbled, throwing the apple core into the bin.

“She got her period or something,” Roger looked down guiltily.

“Oh,” Brian coughed awkwardly, laying down next to Roger. Roger rolled over, so he was facing Brian. Brian turned on his side too, his eyes filling with tears.

“Hey! What’s wrong, Bri?” Roger panicked, placing his hand on Brian’s cheek.

“I’m- I... I’m sorry, I- I ruined everything...” Brian spluttered, tears escaping. Roger wiped away his tears, smiling sadly.

“Clare was right, you know,” Roger murmured, tucking a loose curl behind Brian’s ear.

“Wh-what?” Brian gulped.

“You apologise too much,” Roger murmured, kissing Brian’s nose lovingly.

 


End file.
